Starlight cast across the dome carved by ancient craftsmen, gleaming in mutual radiance with the immortal crystal chandelier.
The orange brilliance bursting forth from the emptying golden chest in the Regency Hall struck the entire hall into instant, breathless silence.
Even Fall Lord Caliera, who unsealed this painting from the nearly exhausted golden chest, froze with a slightly stiff expression.
[Portrait: On a Night When Stars Fall]
[Type: Artwork]
[Grade: Epic]
[Tier: 1]
[Creatures who appreciate this painting will expend a small amount of stamina and mental energy, developing reverence toward the princess depicted, and have a chance to gain minor artistic insight, once only.]
The fervor of the demon dignitaries was like a flame smothered by a colossal wave.
Silence mingled with a brilliant, supreme orange sheen of magical energy, pervading the hall.
The painting ingeniously captured a unique, mystical moment during an eclipse morning in the Demon Realm—
The sky was shrouded in a strange, dusky light, neither the dim gloom of night nor the brightness of dawn, but an ethereal glow suspended between the two.
Contradictory yet harmonious play of light and shadow rendered the royal palace plaza and steps in exquisite detail; the winding steps drew the viewer's gaze deep into the canvas.
This was precisely how the princess looked a week ago during her grand, public debut in the Demon Realm.
Yet she seemed trapped in this eclipse forever, confined within eternal night. An overwhelming sense of oppression and suffocation washed over the viewers, making the demons reflexively want to look away, yet they found it hard to tear themselves free, as though their very souls were being drawn into the scene.
Evidently, an artistic conception of this kind could only come from Marquis Ulysses, Tenth Progenitor of the Blood Clan.
"Epic grade?"
Demons swallowed nervously, shifting their eyes toward the Blood Clan delegation seated at the far end of the Regency Hall.
The Tenth Progenitor simply rested his hands on his knees with a faint smile, seemingly indifferent to the demonic gazes fixed upon him.
He glanced slightly toward the princess, as if asking: *Is Your Highness satisfied with this painting?*
Even though the oppressive aura of the painting might make the princess uncomfortable,
under the pre-established rules, its Epic grade dictated that the princess could not openly choose an inferior Sacred grade instead.
Caliera of the Fall showed no change in expression, though the veins on the back of her hand began to twitch faintly.
The reason she had not overturned the princess's choice of contest topic was twofold: for one, she wanted to avoid conflict, for even in direct martial combat the Blood Clan might still prevail; for another, out of respect for her old friend, preserving the royal house's final shred of dignity. Moreover, she placed her faith in destiny—for the demon race to stand against the stronger Blood Clan was inherently a gamble on their realm's very fortune.
In the end, as if driven by some strange impulse, the princess had chosen painting.
And of all people, the Blood Clan had sent Marquis Ulysses, the Tenth Progenitor.
An Epic-grade painting was beyond anything any artist in today's Demon Realm could match.
In terms of completeness, painting speed, and overall mastery, it utterly crushed Mist Lord and True Night Lord, whom Caliera had trusted to claim victory.
His work had reached a realm that did not belong to this era, truly worthy of being called the foremost painter of the current age.
Sure enough, even fate stood with the Blood Clan.
A feeling of helplessness inexplicably crept into her heart.
Faced with this scene, Caliera could only feel that in this blood-moon era favored by the gods, for the demons to defeat the mighty Blood Clan was as ephemeral as a mirage, impossibly out of reach.
"Why is it so quiet? Excuse me, is this a library?"
A Blood Clan viscount accompanying the delegation could not help but chuckle, his shoulders shaking with amusement.
"Do you have no thoughts at all on Lord Ulysses's masterpiece?"
He looked around the hall as if mocking the demons' earlier arrogance—pouring all their energy into admiring mere Sacred-grade paintings, completely oblivious that they had already lost miserably.
"..."
At his words, numerous demon dignitaries glared furiously toward the center of the fan-shaped seating area where the Blood Clan sat, but none could find words.
Over the years, the demons had learned to defer and endure when facing the Blood Clan.
That was the price paid for peace.
"Is there really not a single demon among you who dares appraise Marquis Ulysses's work? Or are you simply incapable of appreciating art of such caliber?"
After remaining silent for a long time, Duke Eduardo, the Fourth Progenitor, finally spoke from beneath his gray robes.
His voice was as deep and raspy as an ancient millstone.
He demanded that the demons show respect to the Blood Clan.
At all times, the demons had to remember their place.
"You old..."
Mist Lord Orion could not stomach such humiliation. Even though the opponent was a tier 9 Blood Clan duke, he rose to his feet, about to reprimand him to rein it in, but True Night Lord Esmod grabbed his hand.
Those deep blue eyes seemed slightly dimmed, as though stripped of confidence, yet reason remained.
Flying into a rage now would only bring further shame upon the demon race.
Mist Lord Orion considered it; his anger seemed calmed by True Night Lord, and in the end, he sat back down.
The Regency Hall remained in deep silence.
Fourth Progenitor Eduardo slowly turned his turbid, blood-colored eyes toward the princess on the throne across the hall and raised his cane, pointing it at her.
The gesture implied: if no other demon will answer, then perhaps Her Highness would kindly evaluate Ulysses's painting.
Such overbearing pressure finally sent a chill through many demons.
With Caliera saying nothing, they dared not utter a peep.
Without the protection of Fall Lord Caliera, they were as frail as ants before Fourth Progenitor Eduardo, with no lives to spare by offending a tier 9 vampire.
Once the princess answered, whether she praised or belittled the painting, it would make the demon race look utterly defeated—
Praise signaled capitulation; criticism signaled a loss of composure; remaining silent signaled ignorance.
"..."
Thunder Lord bowed his head and clenched his fists, knuckles popping sharply.
He had known all along that these vampires arrived in the Demon Realm with an attitude of lofty condescension.
Ever since the signing of the North-South Treaty, the demons had never truly held their heads high before the Blood Clan. Now, even a mere vampire viscount dared sneer at them.
"Titled 'On a Night When Stars Fall,' the sky of the Demon Realm is shrouded in a curious dusk, as though night has not yet fully receded while a dawn that can never arrive struggles to break through. Amid this enigmatic, paradoxical play of light and shadow, the palace plaza spreads wide, steps winding down, and a peerless princess descends slowly. Her silver hair falls naturally, draping silkily over her pale blue gown. There are no stars in the night sky; the true star is her."
A clear, ringing voice suddenly echoed through the silent Regency Hall. Thunder Lord turned in dazed surprise toward the source, looking at the composed Glow Demon beside him.
It was McCarthy speaking.
"She possesses an incomparable beauty that leaves an indelible mark after a single glance. Her gaze is clear and proud, the most exquisite amber in existence. Be it sorrow or joy, tinged with a trace of delight or regret, it tugs at the viewer's heart. Perhaps like a lingering ballad of summer, or the rustling mountain wind of autumn, or the myriad shifts of the starry sky—with just one look, nothing remains in the mind except her figure."
Lanqi looked at the Epic painting, reciting as though delivering a poem.
Hearing this, Fourth Progenitor Eduardo lowered his cane for the moment.
He gave Lanqi a lingering look.
He possessed the magnanimity of a victor.
It seemed there would be no need to enact their backup plan today.
They could take away the demons' final princess and turn her into a pitiful plaything for the Blood Clan without further ado.
Lanqi's impromptu evaluation allowed all the demons present to breathe a sigh of relief.
"As expected of Mr. McCarthy."
"His words were filled with sincere praise, yet every bit of praise was directed at the princess."
"Though, didn't he lay it on a bit thick...?"
Subtle whispers resurfaced, and the expressions of many demon dignitaries softened slightly.
Only Hyperion, hearing Lanqi's speech, completely lost her composure inside.
*How could I possibly be as pretty as you make me sound...*
Hyperion clutched her dress, muttering in a voice virtually inaudible, her heart pounding erratically.
She took a deep breath, knowing she could not falter before Lanqi at such a moment, and relied on her well-honed undercover agent discipline to restore a calm demeanor.
Beside the throne, Fall Lord Caliera had been quiet for a long while.
Ever since the hall had fallen into silence, she seemed finally worn down with fatigue.
What difference did avoiding post-defeat humiliation make? It could not alter the reality of defeat.
Today, to bide their time, the demons had lost their princess by the rules. What would they lose next time?
"Fall Lord, there is still one painting left."
Hyperion's commanding voice sounded in Caliera's ear.
"Your Highness..."
Caliera glanced sideways, only to see the princess looking even calmer than herself.
At this single moment, the princess's bearing made it seem as though she firmly believed the demons had not lost.
The princess was brave—far braver than she had imagined. At this juncture, she was actually the most steadfast demon among them.
Caliera had originally assumed she was a useless princess, but now she felt she had misjudged her; this witch possessed the commanding mettle worthy of the demon princess's seat.
"Very well. I will accompany you to the very end,"
Fall Lord Caliera nodded in reply.
As the presiding host, she had a duty to see the proceedings through.
Even though only the final sealed painting remained within the golden chest, the demons' loss of the princess was not yet a certainty.
"Is there any need to humiliate yourself further, Caliera?"
Duke Eduardo, the Fourth Progenitor, asked, leaning on his cane as he watched Fall Lord move into action once more before the throne.
Being at the very bottom of the golden chest, this painting had been submitted even earlier than Marquis Ulysses's piece; in all likelihood, it was a half-hearted attempt similar to Thunder Lord's.
"The ancient legendary artisan of the Demon Realm has already lost, and it is impossible to find a great demon in today's realm with higher artistic attainment than True Night Lord. To say the demon race has even a one-in-ten-thousand chance to struggle would be far too optimistic,"
the accompanying Blood Clan viscount shook his head and remarked.
The light woven from magical energy gradually receded, leaving only the bright, solitary orange radiance of the Tenth Progenitor's *On a Night When Stars Fall*, like a lonely star singing to itself.
The sounds from the demon dignitaries' seats seemed swept away by an invisible hand, plunging the entire Regency Hall into a near-solemn stillness.
Those earlier subtle whispers vanished entirely now, and even the air between the once-proud Mist Lord and True Night Lord felt frozen solid.
Many demons could no longer bear to watch the golden chest, simply waiting for the Blood Clan's laughter that would signal the end of it all.
Caliera used her magic to draw forth this painting, which had been placed into the golden chest even earlier than Blood Clan Tenth Progenitor Ulysses's.
At that very instant, Fall Lord seemed to sense something. Her eyelashes fluttered, and hope seemed to rekindle in her eyes.
A blazing orange brilliance abruptly surged out from the golden chest!
Sparks of light scattered and flowed, coalescing into a golden totem in midair. A luminous mist spread in all directions like a bestowal of grace, instantly blanketing the entire hall and reawakening the darkened eyes of the demons from beneath their heavy clouds.
Upon the canvas—
From afar, ripples could be seen spreading across the surface of a winding canal, reflecting the glow of the setting sun.
The evening glow on the horizon served as the backdrop.
The young woman in the painting—her face lit up this world.
Beside her cheeks and behind her stretched a sky woven of pink and tangerine. Her eyes were like shimmering autumn waters, radiant and arresting; even without light, one could tell she shone brilliantly. In the golden hour that belonged solely to her, time itself seemed to stand still for her sake.
[Portrait: Her Golden Hour]
[Type: Artwork]
[Grade: Epic]
[Tier: 1]
[Creatures who appreciate this painting will recover a small amount of mental energy and stamina, develop increased trust toward the young woman depicted, and have a chance to permanently increase their maximum mana stat cap by a slight amount, once only.]
Now, without needing a single word of critique, it took only one second for the demons to go from dumbstruck disbelief to leaping to their feet and pumping their arms in roaring cheers!
Even Caliera showed a smile of profound relief.
"Who painted this?"
The demons stood in excitement, looking all around the Regency Hall to search for the creator.
And yet.
When they followed the princess's gaze,
the answer revealed itself—
That mysterious wealthy merchant.
And the princess.
Gazing at each other across the distance.
The surrounding world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them,
immersed in this beautiful, eternal moment.
Chapter 579