The words hung in the air, heavy and cold as a tombstone. Bind your soul to mine, or I will burn this entire world to ash.
Hua Qian felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain. It was a primal fear, the kind a mouse feels when it looks into the eyes of a hawk. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to flee this beautiful, terrifying man who spoke of burning worlds.
But she didn't move.
Her feet were rooted to the floorboards. She looked into his eyes—one the fierce gold of a noon sun, the other the pale silver of a winter moon. She saw no madness in them. She saw only a terrible, absolute calm. He was not making an empty threat. He was stating a fact.
She took a slow, deep breath, forcing her racing heart to slow. She was a healer. Her whole life was about facing things that were frightening and bringing them peace. This was just another wound, a wound of the soul.
"Why?" she asked, her voice surprisingly steady. "Why would you need my soul? And what does 'bind' mean?"
Di Jun's golden eye narrowed, as if surprised by her question. He had expected screams, or pleading, or fainting. Not calm, logical questions.
"The 'why' is none of your concern," he said, his voice a low growl. "Know only that I am dying, and you are the only cure. As for what it means… it means your life force, your Yang energy, will become mine. You will live as long as I live. You will feel my pain, and I will feel yours. Your soul will be tethered to mine, a chain that cannot be broken."
He took another step closer. He was so close now she could feel the coldness radiating from his body, an aura of deep, ancient emptiness. "In return for your service, for one year, I will grant you a single wish. Anything you desire. Riches? Power? The hand of a prince? Name it, and it shall be yours."
A wish. He spoke of it like a merchant selling silk. But Hua Qian wasn't listening to his offer. Her mind was stuck on one word. Dying.
She looked at the black wound on his chest. It wasn't a wound from a sword or an animal. It was a sickness of the spirit. A darkness that was eating him alive. All her instincts as a physician, all her compassion, rose up inside her, stronger than her fear.
"I will not bind my soul to you," she said, her voice clear and firm. "But I will try to heal you."
Di Jun laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "You? A mortal child? You cannot even begin to understand this wound. Your herbs turn to ash in its presence. Your touch brings me pain, though you do not know it."
"Then explain it to me," she said, taking a step forward. She met his gaze without flinching. "You say I am the only cure. Then you must let me understand the sickness. That is the way of healing. You cannot just demand a cure; you must find the cause."
For the first time, a flicker of something other than arrogance crossed his face. It was surprise, followed by a grudging respect. This mortal was either a fool or braver than any celestial warrior he had ever faced.
He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the drumming of the rain on the roof. He was weak. The wound was draining him faster than he had anticipated. He did not have the strength to take what he wanted by force. He needed her agreement.
"The wound was made by a celestial arrow," he said finally, his voice low. "An arrow forged in the heart of a star. Its energy is pure Yang, the opposite of my own demonic Yin nature. It is a poison that is slowly turning my own power against me, consuming me from the inside out."
Hua Qian's eyes widened. A celestial arrow. The old stories were true.
"And my… my energy?" she asked softly.
"Your body is Pure Yang," he said, his gaze intense. "A living vessel of the same energy that is killing me. But unlike the arrow, your energy is alive. It can adapt. It can balance. By binding your soul to mine, your life force will not attack me. It will… soothe the poison. It will give me time."
Time. He was asking for time. Not a cure, but a reprieve. She looked at his proud, tormented face. He was a king, a lord of some dark and terrible place, brought low by a single wound. He was asking for help, but his pride would only let him frame it as a command.
She thought of her village, of the people who depended on her. She thought of the simple, quiet life she loved. To bind her soul to this man would be to throw it all away.
But she also thought of her oath, the promise she had made to herself and to the world. To heal wherever she could. And this man, this terrifying Demon Lord, was the most broken person she had ever met.
"If I agree to this," she said slowly, her heart pounding, "you must promise me something. You must promise that no harm will come to this village, or to me, as long as I am helping you. Your world and my world will not touch."
Di Jun studied her face, as if searching for any sign of trickery. He saw only resolve.
"Agreed," he said, a single, sharp word. "The contract is simple. One year of service. In exchange, your world remains untouched, and you will receive your wish at the end."
He raised his hand, and the air between them began to shimmer. A complex pattern of light and shadow formed, a web of intricate, glowing lines. It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing Hua Qian had ever seen.
"Place your hand in the center of the seal," he commanded.
She hesitated for only a second. Then, with a deep breath that felt like her last, she reached out and placed her palm in the glowing web.
The moment her skin made contact, the world exploded.
A torrent of energy surged through her, a roaring river of ice and shadows, of loneliness and rage. It was his soul, his pain, his entire existence flooding into her. She felt the weight of a thousand years, the bitterness of betrayal, the crushing burden of his power. It was overwhelming, and she cried out, her knees buckling.
At the same time, a wave of warmth flowed from her into him. It was her own life force, her compassion, her memories of sunlit fields and the laughter of children. It was a light in his endless darkness.
Di Jun gasped, stumbling back. The black wound on his chest flared with a blinding light, and for a moment, the dark, empty energy around him receded, replaced by a soft, golden glow. The pain in his face eased, just for a second.
The light show faded. The seal vanished. Hua Qian was on her knees, gasping for air, her hand tingling. It was done. Their souls were bound.
She could feel him now, a cold, heavy presence in the back of her mind. A constant, silent companion.
Di Jun looked at his chest, then at her. His expression was one of shock. He had expected the binding to be painful, a necessary evil. He had not expected it to feel… like a balm on a burn he had carried for centuries.
Before either of them could speak, a new sound cut through the night.
It was a horn, long and clear, blowing from the direction of the village. It was the warning horn. It was only blown in one situation: when the village was under attack.
Di Jun's head snapped towards the door, his golden eye flaring with a deadly light. Hua Qian scrambled to her feet, her blood running cold.
"They're here for me," he said, his voice flat and cold. "My enemies have found me."