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All gods and Buddhas stand behind me.
Fan Jue once made a colossal mistake. In fact, he tore the heavens themselves apart.
The sky split, heavenly demons descended, and monsters rejoiced, ready to seize the world’s fortune from humanity.
The heavenly way seemed powerless; humans were mere ants.
Then Yan Zhi cut off Fan Jue’s demon horn with a single sword strike. The cold, merciless man suppressed his demonic aura and destroyed his blade.
Fan Jue ended up in prison.
After ten years of reform, with 9,990 years left on his sentence, Fan Jue finally got a chance at parole.
The hornless man lounged arrogantly on the iron bed, whistling: “Great Judge, moving me requires payment.”
Yan Zhi, cleaning his bloodstained sword, didn’t even look up: “Better spend that chance on reducing your sentence.”
Fan Jue yanked Yan Zhi’s collar, chains clanking, grinning at the disheveled shirt: “You know what I want.”
Yan Zhi’s sword stirred, and the air froze. After a pause, he shoved Fan Jue’s hand away and sheathed his blade: “Fine.”
Fan Jue smirked, straightened the wrinkled shirt, and whispered: “This time, I won’t wear it.”
Later, his demon underlings fought their way to rescue their imprisoned king, only to see him casually snap his fingers, dropping his shackles.
“My lord, if you could escape, why didn’t you? Is prison food that good?”
Fan Jue ignored them, hoisting the injured Yan Zhi and cuffing the Judge instead, even fixing his shirt to hide the marks on his skin.
“Idiots. Was it the prison food you thought smelled so good?”
Fan Jue didn’t want to kill Yan Zhi, but his demon followers tried anyway. They launched a full-force sneak attack. Yan Zhi didn’t flinch.
He turned slowly, glanced at them like ants, and with a clang, his shackles fell away.
The demons despaired: “Wait—he could escape too, so why didn’t he?!”
As they were blasted away, they cried: “So the two of you were just cosplaying?!”
****
Possessive, cunning prisoner seme (Fan Jue) × Cold, divine Judge uke (Yan Zhi)
