"Master… do you know about Demon Hunters…?"
The words left her lips soft, but the weight behind them was heavy.
Liu Yang's body twitched. His shoulders trembled. His heart thumped hard inside his chest. He was once human. That truth sat like a blade against his throat. If she knew… if she found out… maybe she would tear him apart right here.
He could see her eyes. Red, burning, but not with heat. Burning with hate. The hate was sharp, twisted, deep inside her voice when she spoke the word Demon Hunters.
Liu Yang's stomach turned. His throat went dry.
Then something else happened. His nose twitched. A strange smell filled him. Not like flowers. Not like blood spilled on the ground. It was the smell that only a demon could feel.
[Blood Sense: Activated]
He could feel it, not like the air she breathed or the warm skin under his hand but something deeper that moved inside her and reached out to him.
It was her blood he felt, the steady beat under her ribs, the iron-smell and the quick pulse that rolled through her like a small storm.
Her anger rode in that blood, rushing hot and fast, sharp like fire pushed through a thin pipe, it hit him first as heat then as a hard knot in his chest.
Her pain clung to the same blood, heavy and sticky, like dirt stuck to wet cloth, it made the smell thick and hard to breathe, it made his head spin.
Blood Sense showed it all, not with words and not with pictures but as feelings shoved right into his ribs, raw and loud, so clear he knew her fear and her hate without a single sentence spoken.
Liu Yang gulped hard. His lips parted but no sound came out. His mind raced, searching for the right words, searching for anything that could hide his truth.
His chest grew tighter with every second. The more he felt her blood, the more he understood. She was broken. Broken by the Demon Hunters.
And he feared — if she even smelled his past, if she even guessed — she might not see him as a master, not as a demon, but as a human, as an enemy, as filth.
"Obviously, obviously I knew it… it's just… my memories are a little fuzzy." His lips twitched, his eyes darted to the side.
He started to mix the truth with lies, pulling words out fast, trying to cover the cracks.
He spoke about the soldiers, how they rushed him in the grassland, their swords flashing, stabbing into him. His hands moved as he talked, showing the strikes, the blood, the pain.
But then he twisted it, bent it, added the lie. He said he slipped away, his body fast, faster than theirs, and he hid, crawling into the cave.
He told her the wounds were deep, so deep they broke his head, scrambled his memories, left him half-empty.
He forced the words smooth, like he believed them himself, but his chest was heavy. Each beat of his heart was loud, afraid she would smell the fear in his blood and know..
Her eyes burned red, the glow sharper than before, and her lips pulled back just enough to show the tips of her teeth.
"How dare they… those filthy humans."
Her voice trembled with rage, but then it steadied, low and cold.
"Don't worry, Master. We will kill them one by one."
As she said it, a sly grin crept across her face, curling slow, the kind that didn't match her pretty features but made the cave feel darker, heavier.
Cough.
Cough.
Liu Yang bent his head down and covered his mouth with his hand, coughing hard like the words themselves had left a bad taste in his throat.
"Those filthy… bastard humans," he forced out, his voice shaking, but then he pushed it stronger, louder, like he wanted her to hear his hate. "They should all burn. Every last one of them."
He clenched his fists tight, nails digging into his palm. His face twisted, but behind that mask, his chest was heavy. He wasn't just speaking—he was fighting. Fighting himself.
Inside his body, he could feel it—the scent of human soul that still clung to him. The memories of Earth, of being human, pressed on him like chains.
He knew if she caught the smallest whiff of it, if she saw even a flicker of doubt, she would tear him apart without hesitation.
So he forced it down. He pressed his fear under his rage, he buried his past under his words. His [Blood Sense] told him her anger was real, her hate was real. If he wanted to live, he had to make his own hate real too.
He squeezed his chest with one hand, his teeth grit, his breath rough. He was trying to control every drop of blood, every flicker of emotion, forcing it to twist into hate.
"Why didn't you fight back, Master?" she asked, her voice was sharp and her eyes was still looking on his face.