He Lianjue’s dark pupils narrowed, the quiet challenge in Wanxiao’s words ringing in his ears. Mortar? Bricks? Was this her way of testing his resolve, his devotion? To see if he would stoop to menial tasks for her sake, proving his sincerity before she deigned to acknowledge his claim? Such a clever, subtle woman. He could respect that. The air around them grew heavy, crackling with raw Nether miasma. A low hum vibrated in the very stones of the plaza. He Lianjue intended to unleash a concentrated shockwave, a dramatic display of power that would pulverize the remaining dilapidated structures and assert his terrifying dominance, reminding her precisely *who* he was. He raised a hand, dark tendrils of spiritual force spiraling around his palm, coalescing into a sphere of pure, destructive might. “Observe, my chosen,” he rumbled, his voice deepening to a resonant thunder that promised obliteration. “I shall clear this blight from your sight, and then you shall truly understand the depths of my…” Wanxiao clapped her hands together, a bright, satisfied smile gracing her lips. “Oh, wonderful! That’s the old Ancestor’s Refectory, isn’t it? Been meaning to get that down. It’s structurally unsound, a real hazard. A controlled demolition would save us a fortune in labor costs.” She pointed an elegant finger past his shoulder, towards a teetering, moss-covered hall leaning precariously on the mountain’s edge. “Aim it right there, My Sovereign! A good, clean blast should do the trick!” He Lianjue faltered, the spiraling force in his hand momentarily losing cohesion. Aim? She wanted him to *aim* his destructive force? He was the Nether Sovereign, not a masonry demolition expert! Yet, her expectant gaze held an almost childlike wonder, as if she truly believed he would perform this… *favor*. His dark romantic monologue was thoroughly derailed. He set his teeth, redirecting the formidable vortex with a grunt that was more annoyance than exertion. The sphere of dark power shot forth, not in a general, overwhelming blast, but in a focused beam, striking the ancient Refectory with surgical accuracy. The building groaned, then crumbled inwards, dust and splintered wood exploding outwards in a surprisingly contained cloud. A segment of the cliff face, weakened by centuries of neglect, sheared off cleanly, falling into the ravine below with a distant rumble. Wanxiao clapped again, genuinely delighted. “Magnificent! An exact trajectory! You even managed to clear some of the unstable rock beneath. That will make our foundation work so much easier. Consider this your first task, accomplished with unparalleled finesse, My Sovereign.” She gestured grandly at the newly flattened area. “Now, that space would be ideal for the new quiet courtyard. We’ll need slate pavers, preferably cut to a standard three-chi by six-chi dimension.” He Lianjue stood amidst the settling dust, his veins thrumming, his mind a tempest. She was testing him. This was it. She wanted to see if his power could be *useful* to her, if he was truly worthy of her demanding heart. His romantic novel protagonist brain spun the narrative: she wasn’t asking him to *work*, she was asking him to *prove* his devotion by *serving* her. A dark smile touched his lips. Very well. He would serve. He would show her his terrifying devotion. He would build her an empire of slate pavers if that was what she desired. Just then, a soft hand appeared, gently wiping a smudge of plaster from Wanxiao’s cheek. “Wanxiao, my dear,” a melodic voice murmured, “you work too hard. You barely slept last night, planning the new irrigation channels for the Spirit-Herb Valley. Let me fetch you some calming dew-tea.” Su Qingluo, Wanxiao’s gentle best friend, stood beside her, clad in robes of pristine jade green, her expression one of profound concern. Her touch was feather-light, her gaze warm and solicitous. He Lianjue scowled. This ‘friend’ was always hovering, always inserting herself into their… *intimate* moments. He would deal with her later. For now, he had slate pavers to procure. “Qingluo, you’re a lifesaver!” Wanxiao beamed, completely oblivious to the demonic glares being exchanged over her head. “Speaking of irrigation, the northern sluice gate needs urgent repair. We’re losing too much run-off from the Cloudfall Peak. Perhaps you could oversee the young masters fixing that? It requires a delicate hand to realign the runic conduits.” “Of course, Wanxiao. Anything for you,” Su Qingluo replied, her smile unwavering, even as her eyes flickered with a strange, possessive intensity towards He Lianjue. She turned and drifted away, her gentle demeanor a stark contrast to the brewing storm in the air. Before He Lianjue could even begin to contemplate the logistics of sourcing three-chi by six-chi slate pavers, a guttural roar tore through the air. The soil trembled. A hulking form, made of jagged, fossilized rock and glowing with malevolent emerald light, burst from the bedrock near the newly flattened Refectory site. Its eyes glowed with raw aggression, its stony claws already tearing at the nascent foundation trenches. A Stone-Hide Golem, a creature drawn to areas of disrupted leylines and fresh rock. It snarled, spitting shards of raw earth. “A hazard!” Wanxiao exclaimed, her brow lifting, not in fear, but in calculation. “That brute will ruin our new courtyard layout! He Lianjue, Jin Xiu, someone! Get rid of it before it damages the prepared soil!” He Lianjue’s eyes narrowed. An opportunity! A chance to display his protective prowess, his terrifying strength. He took a single, powerful step forward, dark plumes flaring around him, intending to reduce the Golem to dust before it could even twitch. He was her protector, her shield! This was *his* role. But a flash of azure robes was faster. Young Master Jin Xiu, one of the elite cultivators Wanxiao had manipulated into manual labor, vaulted over a pile of rubble with surprising speed. His cultivation base was formidable, easily rivaling a mid-tier sect elder. He landed deftly before the Golem, a gleaming broadsword already unsheathed. “Stand back, Sect Leader Lin!” he bellowed, his voice ringing with youthful bravado. “This abomination will not mar your sacred ground!” He Lianjue snarled. *His* moment! Stolen by this… this *enthusiastic laborer*! Jin Xiu engaged the Golem with a flurry of surgical strikes. His sword, infused with pure celestial qi, chipped away at the Golem’s stony hide. But as each piece of fossilized rock broke off, it didn’t crumble into dust. Instead, it hardened, becoming a cleanly sliced, smooth slab of greyish-green stone, infused with residual spiritual qi. The Golem roared in pain and frustration, lashing out with its stony fists. Wanxiao’s eyes lit up. “Oh, brilliant! Those pieces are almost perfectly uniform! Excellent building material!” She clapped. “Young Master Jin, good form! Try to aim for larger sections if possible! We could use those for the retaining walls around the lower terrace!” Jin Xiu, invigorated by her praise, redoubled his efforts, his movements becoming more deliberate, aiming for the Golem’s broader shoulders and chest. Each successful strike resulted in a clean, rectangular block of hardened scale. He Lianjue, watching in simmering fury, saw the Golem stumble, leaving a trail of neatly carved blocks in its wake. He wasn’t about to be outdone by a glorified bricklayer. With a ferocious roar, He Lianjue launched himself into the fray. Dark energy exploded from his fists, not as a destructive force, but as a shaping one. He aimed for the Golem’s legs, splintering them with powerful blows, then using his shadow qi to *realign* the broken pieces, stacking them instantly into a formidable, thick-walled barricade. “A wall of defensive might!” he thundered, his voice echoing. “To shelter my beloved from all threats!” Jin Xiu, not to be outdone, parried a Golem arm-swing, causing it to splinter into several large, flat scales. He then, with a flash of qi, levitated the pieces and began to *assemble* them, not into a mere wall, but a meticulously interlocked section of an *entry portal*. “Protection requires proper architecture!” he countered, sweat beading on his brow. “A sturdy archway, precisely fitted, ensures lasting security!” The two most powerful young men in the realm, an abyssal monarch and a Celestial Scion, were now engaged in a bizarre, competitive construction project, using a rogue Stone-Hide Golem as their material source. The Golem, increasingly smaller and more distraught, was being systematically dismantled, its dense scales and limbs transformed into building blocks. Jin Xiu was constructing an ornate entry portal, complete with tiny decorative gargoyles, while He Lianjue was rapidly erecting a towering, unyielding defensive perimeter wall around the entire plot. Every time the Golem roared and tried to escape, one of them would land a well-aimed blow, resulting in another evenly sliced slab of stone. Wanxiao watched, humming with satisfaction, occasionally shouting encouragement. “Mind the corners, Young Master Jin! We need those to be flush! Sovereign, that central foundation needs a deeper trench for better stability!” Finally, with a mournful, deflating sigh, the Golem collapsed into a heap of its own neatly cut components. He Lianjue and Jin Xiu stood panting, side by side, surveying their handiwork. A newly constructed, albeit somewhat mismatched, defensive wall now surrounded the terrace, with a surprisingly intricate gatehouse at its entrance. The air thrummed with their competitive, exhausted qi. “Excellent work, both of you!” Wanxiao declared, striding over to inspect. “The wall is… robust, Sovereign. And Young Master Jin, the gatehouse shows remarkable artistry. Though perhaps a bit over-the-top for a courtyard entrance. Still, very impressive. You’ve saved us months of quarrying and carving!” Before either man could preen or bicker further, a shadow fell over them. Not a cloud, but a massive, ornate carriage, pulled by six spectral Sky-Steeds, descending from the heavens. It wasn’t landing gently. It plunged straight down, a gilded projectile, slamming directly onto the newly constructed pavilion with a deafening crash. The meticulously crafted archway splintered, the decorative gargoyles broke, and the grand entrance collapsed into a pile of rubble. From the ruined remains of the celestial conveyance, a figure emerged. He was regal, arrogant, clad in imperial yellow and silver, his face a picture of entitled disdain. His eyes, the color of polished obsidian, swept over the chaos, then fixed on Wanxiao. A scroll, shimmering with imperial decree, unfurled in his hand. “Lin Wanxiao,” the Crown Prince, Jun Liyuan, declared, his voice echoing with cold authority, “I have come to claim my bride.”

The Demonic Sovereign's Mortar