Growing Up with the Demon King Tyrant - Chapter 1

Just past noon, the sunlight was obscured by thick layers of clouds, and the wind sweeping through the corridor carried a chilling bite.

Several attendants entered carrying medicine chests, hurrying toward the inner chambers.

Xihua stood alone in the foyer, his head lowered in silence. In his hand, he held a short blade, slowly wiping away the residual traces of blood from the tip of the edge. A few drops of blood had also splattered onto his sleeves, having already dried into dark spots.

The inner chamber was brightly lit, and the sound of wailing drifted out.

Xinian cried hysterically, “Is my hand ruined? Xihua… he tried to kill me!”

Queen Wei sat by the bedside, coaxing him with heartache, “It won’t be. After applying the medicine, it will heal in a few days.”

The palm of Xinian’s right hand had been pierced through by the blade. Furthermore, the wound was tainted with demonic energy; ordinary healing magic could not fully treat it. They had to use a specially crafted medicinal powder.

Hearing this, Xinian’s emotions stabilized slightly. He looked toward another figure sitting upright nearby. “Father, he was the one who struck first…”

No one knew exactly what had happened. A passing attendant had heard a scream and rushed to check, only to find Xinian’s palm pinned to the wall by a sharp short blade. There were also small wounds on his arm and the side of his neck, while Xihua stood nearby, watching him collapse in agonizing tears with a cold gaze.

Soon, both were sent to the front hall. The physician first stopped Xinian’s bleeding and treated his injuries. Queen Wei arrived immediately, followed shortly by the King of the race, Chimonea.

Chimonea leaned against the back of his chair, propping his forehead with one hand. “That’s enough.”

His voice was faint, yet his majesty remained undiminished. Xinian’s lamentations were cut short; he immediately ceased his noise, only daring to look toward his mother with a pleading gaze.

Chimonea raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping toward Xihua standing outside.

Xihua remained motionless, his silent and calm demeanor completely different from Xinian, who was still wiping away tears.

The two princes were of similar age—Xinian was only half a year older than Xihua. There were usually various conflicts between them, but this was the most severe instance. Xihua did not deny his actions, nor did he offer a single word of defense.

Chimonea tilted his head slightly. An adjutant behind him received the signal and stepped out of the inner chamber.

“Third Prince.”

Xihua lifted his head, his pitch-black eyes looking at the adjutant before him.

“You may enter now,” the adjutant said. “The King and Queen are both present. Please offer an apology to the Second Prince…”

Xihua remained expressionless. “Why should I apologize to him?”

The adjutant was quiet for a moment before continuing, “Do you mean to say the injury to the Second Prince’s hand was an accident?”

Even if it were an accident, since Xinian was the one injured, Xihua should apologize first before explaining the reason.

Before the adjutant could finish his sentence, Xihua replied, “It was no accident.”

“He was the one who spoke provocations first.”

That was why he had used a blade to pierce Xinian’s palm. Xihua’s tone did not change; clearly, he did not feel he had done anything wrong.

“The Second Prince is your older brother, after all. If there is something to say, say it properly. Why resort to violence?”

“To make sure he remembers the lesson.”

The adjutant was momentarily speechless. “Even so, you shouldn’t have struck so heavily…”

“He won’t die.”

Xihua spat out those cold words, already showing signs of impatience. He was only ten years old, yet he displayed a manner and temperament that did not match his age, and he was even less inclined to listen to the advice of others.

The adjutant had nothing left to say and stepped back with a bow.

Chimonea had arrived in the front hall at some unknown point, standing there with a frown.

“Wild, impulsive, and incorrigible,” he said in a deep voice. “Confine him to the Netherworld Valley to reflect on his faults for fifteen days.”

Xihua’s lips moved slightly, showing utter indifference. “Fine by me.”

He gave Chimonea a perfunctory salute, then turned and walked away, his right leg slightly limping.

A week ago, Xihua had gotten into a fight with several members of the Titan race at the academy. The injury to his right knee had not yet healed, and now he had stabbed Xinian.

Chimonea watched his retreating figure, the furrow between his brows remaining deep.

Seeing that Xihua had left, Queen Wei said no more and led Xinian back to the bedchambers to rest.

Chimonea did not leave. He sat in the chair in the foyer and pondered for a moment. “Contact Mr. Air.”

The adjutant complied, taking out a communication device inlaid with a magic stone. After a while, the signal from the Star-Gazing Tower successfully connected, and a clear, cold male voice sounded from the device.

The adjutant withdrew, leaving only Chimonea in the hall.

“I told you long ago, he has too much of a wicked nature.”

Upon learning of Xihua’s actions today, Air said softly, “The Divine Pillar cannot suppress him.”

As descendants of a branch of the God Race, the Heteromorph Demons possessed talents and combat power far exceeding ordinary races. Being called “Demons,” they naturally possessed the traits of evil spirits.

Thousands of years ago, after the God Race completely vanished, the residual Divine Pillars endowed the Heteromorph Demons with divinity, offsetting a portion of their negative traits. This ultimately allowed the Heteromorph Demons to become the head of the major races, keeping the continent in a state of relative peace.

Xihua, however, was the sole exception.

For some reason, the Divine Pillar had no effect on him. The “Demonic” traits within him were too heavy; if not controlled, he would likely become a source of calamity.

“Is it impossible to intervene early?” Chimonea asked.

“On this matter, the horoscopes cannot help me,” Air paused. “However, he is still young. Perhaps there is still a chance for change. I will think of a way.”

In the afternoon, Xihua was taken to the Netherworld Valley.

Two soldiers confiscated his storage ring and short blade, saying respectfully, “Please enter.”

This was Chimonea’s command: Xihua was not permitted to bring anything into the valley, and for the half-month he was confined, no one was allowed to visit him.

The thickets ahead were dense, and in the distance, rolling mountain ranges stretched out. The scenery looked pleasant; it was indeed a place suitable for quieting the mind and gathering one’s spirit.

Xihua took a few steps forward, his feet treading on thick grass and leaves.

With a soft “pop” sound, the soldiers behind him vanished. A semi-transparent wall enveloped the entire Netherworld Valley, sealing Xihua inside.

He glanced back once, then continued walking forward.

Everywhere his eyes could see, there was lush vegetation, yet not a single living creature was in sight.

The Netherworld Valley was originally the site of an ancient battlefield. The lingering aura of slaughter and bloodshed had once rendered the surroundings barren. Later, as the aura gradually dissipated, plants began to grow, and it appeared to have returned to normal.

However, the magical power of this land was damaged. Anyone who entered would find their original strength reduced to one-tenth. Even ordinary animals were unwilling to approach.

Since Xihua’s storage ring had been taken, he would likely have to survive on wild fruits here. However, as a Heteromorph Demon, his physique far surpassed that of ordinary people; he would not die even if he went without food or water for half a month.

He walked aimlessly for a round, found a patch of grass that looked agreeable, and sat down with his back against a tree trunk to rest.

The wound on his right leg throbbed with pain. Most likely, because he had stood in the hall for too long earlier, it had begun to seep blood again. Xihua had left in a hurry and only changed his clothes; the medicine on his leg had not been replaced.

He lowered his eyes quietly, casually plucking a few weeds from the ground.

Chimonea might have forgotten that today was Xihua’s birthday—or perhaps he had done it on purpose to ensure Xihua remembered this lesson as well.

Xihua tossed away the crumpled ball of grass in his hand, his cold gaze landing in the distance.

Suddenly, the bushes behind and to his side shifted, making a faint rustling sound.

Xihua turned his head and caught a glimpse of a small white shadow flickering among the grass leaves, approaching him.

His reaction was lightning-fast; he immediately stood up, staring warily at that white creature.

The creature was very small, only slightly larger than an adult’s palm. It struggled to poke out a claw, pushing aside the thick grass to reveal its full form before Xihua’s eyes.

At first glance, it was the cub of some spiritual beast. It had silvery-white scales all over its body, wings and a tail at its back, and a pair of horns on its head.

The cub crawled out of the grass, lifting a pair of clear golden pupils to meet Xihua’s gaze.

Xihua’s expression shifted slightly. He took half a step back, his voice tinged with uncertainty: “…A dragon?”

On this continent, there was only one race with golden pupils.

—The Dragon Race.

But how could a dragon come to the territory of the Heteromorph Demons? It seemed to be a stray dragon cub.

Xihua remained still, a faint demonic energy gathering in his palm.

The dragon cub crouched on the ground, its nose twitching slightly as it tilted its head to look at Xihua: “Wu…”

In that brief moment of stalemate, Xihua thought of many possibilities, all of which were eventually dismissed. This was the Netherworld Valley, and it was not near the border; it was impossible for the Dragon Race to sneak in.

It wasn’t until he remembered another matter that a new speculation formed in his mind.

Xihua withdrew the demonic energy from his palm and searched carefully nearby. Sure enough, he found three dragon eggs under a tree.

To be precise, there were two; one of them had already hatched, its interior empty.

At this moment, the little dragon cub from before followed closely. Its silvery-white scales were particularly conspicuous among the grass.

Since Xihua had an injury on his leg, he simply sat down where he was and sized up the cub before him again.

The little dragon cub was somewhat thin and small. Its sharp claws had not yet fully formed, appearing as rounded as a kitten’s paws. Its scales were smooth and soft, and the wings on its back were tiny—it likely didn’t know how to fly yet. The tips of its dragon horns were also blunt, posing no threat whatsoever.

This young dragon had indeed only recently hatched, most likely today.

Xihua had once heard that decades ago, the Dragon Race had suffered a crushing defeat in a conflict with the Heteromorph Demons. Several dragons within the race were captured, and in desperation, they surrendered to the Heteromorph Demons.

To show absolute submission, the Dragon Race had painfully offered three dragon eggs, hoping the Heteromorph Demons would cease their attack. Dragons were a race that fiercely protected their young; being able to go to such lengths seemed to show great sincerity. Thus, the Heteromorph Demons agreed and accepted the eggs.

However, they later discovered that the three dragon eggs sent over had no signs of life at all—they were duds that could not hatch. But by the time they wanted to settle scores with the Dragon Race, it was already too late.

Later on, the dragon eggs were casually discarded in the Netherworld Valley.

Now that so much time had passed, both races surely would never have imagined that one of those three “dead” eggs would actually return to life and successfully hatch.

Xihua instinctively reached for his pockets, wanting to notify others of this news, only to remember his storage ring was gone and he could not contact the outside world. He would be confined for half a month, and during this time, no one would come here.

Xihua had no choice but to drop the matter. He withdrew his gaze from the little dragon cub and looked instead at the dragon eggs under the tree.

The remaining two eggs were red and yellow. Their shells were covered in dust, looking lifeless. Words were carved onto the eggs: “Yanchuan” and “Jinxiao” respectively.

Xihua brushed aside the grass. On the already shattered silver eggshell, the name “Xue Yi” was carved.

He murmured softly, “Xue Yi…”

Waiting by his side, the little dragon cub heard Xihua’s voice and hurriedly trotted closer, its golden eyes shining: “Awoo!”

The little dragon cub’s courage grew. It came to Xihua’s leg. While Xihua was sizing it up, Xue Yi was also curiously sizing him up.

This morning, Xue Yi had woken up inside the shell. It took him nearly the whole day to break through the thick eggshell and see the sunlight outside.

Although the Dragon Race was categorized as beastmen, they were far more intelligent than ordinary beastmen. Furthermore, every dragon received an inheritance from within the egg during the hatching process, including the name carved on the shell.

Xue Yi knew what he was called and knew he had hatched from an egg. But having just hatched, Xue Yi could not yet understand more complex concepts—such as why the youth before him looked different from himself.

Xihua was the first living creature he had seen here, and he had even called out Xue Yi’s name.

Therefore, he must be his parent.

Xue Yi wagged the tail behind him and lifted a front paw, tentatively resting it on Xihua’s leg. The little dragon cub’s movements were somewhat clumsy, hooking onto the fabric and struggling to climb up, looking over with innocent and simple eyes.

Xihua hesitated for a moment but did not stop him, wanting to see what this cub intended to do.

“Awoo…”

Xue Yi called out again, his nose nuzzling Xihua’s finger resting on his leg, and he gave it an affectionate lick.

The sensation from his fingertip was warm and soft. Xihua’s back stiffened slightly, and he said with a cold face, “Get lost.”

The Heteromorph Demons and the Dragon Race had always looked down on each other. The conflicts between them for various reasons were countless, and they had only quieted down in recent years. This young dragon before him likely mistook him for a kin, or even a parent or sibling, which made Xihua feel uncomfortable.

The little dragon cub seemed frightened by Xihua’s reaction, staring blankly and not daring to move.

Xihua reached out, pinched the scruff of the little dragon cub’s neck, and lifted him up.

His body suddenly suspended in the air, the little dragon cub timidly curled his tail: “Wu…”

Xihua took a quick glance; it was a male dragon.

He gently tossed the young dragon in his hand into the thick, soft grass and stood up.

Xihua looked down from above as the little dragon cub rolled over and climbed back up, then he turned and walked away. He didn’t want to stay with a dragon. If it weren’t for the circumstances, this dragon he discovered would have already been handed over to other tribesmen; he wouldn’t have spared it another look.

By the time Xue Yi stabilized himself in the grass, Xihua was already far away. The little dragon cub hurriedly gave chase, but his vision was blocked by the tall weeds, and the youth’s figure vanished in an instant.

Xue Yi sniffed the surrounding air, trying to catch Xihua’s scent, but he found nothing.

“Awoo…”

The little dragon cub was extremely dejected. He had no choice but to turn back to the tree and struggle to climb back into the eggshell.

Before the sun set, Xihua found a flowing stream.

The water was clear. He took a few sips and took the opportunity to wash the seeping blood from the wound on his leg, tearing off a piece of his hem to re-bandage it. Without ointment and with the demonic power in his body suppressed, the pain of the wound was even more intense.

Xihua remained silent throughout the process, not even a frown appearing on his face.

Having finished all this, Xihua looked up at the darkening sky.

It was hard to even find a bug here. A newly hatched dragon was at its most fragile; he wondered if it could survive for fifteen days. If it died, he would just act as if he had never seen it.

Xihua stood up, identifying the direction in the woods, and walked back toward his original spot. Although he did not like dragons, he was truly bored. The entire Netherworld Valley was so vast, yet he couldn’t find any other living thing.

Night was approaching, and Xihua did not stop his pace.

When he returned to the familiar patch of grass, he saw the silvery-white dragon egg under the tree at a glance. The egg originally had a crack with a large piece of shell missing from the top, but now it was crookedly covered again.

Hearing footsteps, the dragon egg under the tree wobbled, and a claw poked out from the edge. Another claw straightened with great effort, lifting the top of the shell to reveal a pair of dragon horns, followed by a pair of golden eyes.

Seeing Xihua return, the little dragon cub called out joyfully: “Aw!”