He's in Love with the Devil.

The carriage rushed through the shadows of the dark woods, the dead trees standing devilishly still in the night wind. The steeds pulling the wagon were already drenched in sweat and foaming at the mouth, but the whips waving in the air simply wouldn't allow them to stop and rest. "My beloved sire, it will be impossible by any stretch of the imagination to make it to Mourne by morning." The driver was even more weary than the steed. Acting as the driver was a knight in armor, who was sweating profusely and breathing heavily at the moment, catching the wagon pulling into a flat area as he pleaded with the man in the carriage behind him. "The horse needs rest." "Excellent." The king replied from the carriage. "Then you can sleep for a long time." The knight's face grew paler and paler. He dared not speak again, and, heedless of his fatigue from driving all day and all night in succession, continued to whip his horse. Because, sitting inside the carriage was the monarch of the Rogaland Empire. Puerlang I. At this moment, the night shrouded the four fields, and the mountains were like magic. Surprisingly, this honorable king did not bring a large group of people with him, but only rode in a black velvet-covered carriage rushing through the wilderness, rushing to a place called "Mourne". After intimidating the chief steward of the inner court, who was forced to act as coachman, the king himself leaned against the wall of the carriage and lifted the curtain. The moonlight from the cracks in the trees swept over his face. The red cloak the king wore set his face off in a cold white color. He was young, and his still-teenage features were a bit overly delicate, but the perversity that shrouded his brow made him look especially aggressive. In the moonlight, the light blue pupils of his eyes showed a sense of sharpness that could not be ignored. The king looked out of the car at the trees that kept passing by, judging how far it was from Merne at this point. Of course he knew that both the horse and the driver were already very tired. But he had to get to the town of Mern before the sun rose today. Otherwise his uncle, the Duke of Buckingham, would be finished. .................. Two days ago. Zhu Chi was still just a young man suffering from a serious illness. He lay in full pallor watching his muscles gradually atrophy, counting in his mind when he would die. No one wanted to die, including Zhu Chi. Modern science and technology couldn't save him, and the gods and goddesses in heaven didn't care about him. Zhu Chi did something ridiculous. He opened an ancient scroll he had gotten by chance, which was said to be able to summon the devil. Drops of blood seeped into the intricate vine patterns, and black mist filled the house. In response to his last hope in despair, the devil descended. The Devil was a soul merchant famous for his deviousness. Zhu Chi sold his soul, thus exchanging it for a chance to be reborn in the other world. He asked for a young, healthy body. The Devil agrees and gives him a degree of favor when signing the contract, and ends up giving him a gift. The devil's strange generosity makes Zhu Chi wary. But there was no way out, he was desperate. The deed was done. In the ICU, the pale, sickly youth closed his eyes, the lines on the heart rate display screen equalizing. And in the Otherworld, in the Empire's magnificent chambers, a pair of pale blue eyes opened. After receiving the memories and the original fate line attached to the contract, Zhu Chi understood why the devil was so generous. He was reborn as the monarch of the otherworldly Rogaland Empire - the Puerlang I. In less than a month after his birth, his father, King William, who was a great warrior, died of a serious illness. Thanks to his uncle, the Duke of Buckingham, who faithfully guarded him, Pullan was able to grow up and be crowned king. Contrary to his people's expectations, the young king was a ruthless, cold-hearted, dictatorial, and unapologetic tyrant. Toward the end of his reign, he personally ordered the beheading of his own uncle, the Duke of Buckingham, who had been loyal to him. This was the cruelest and stupidest thing Pullen ever did in his short life. For it led directly to the subsequent coup d'état for which the tyrant paid with his life. --Last King Pullan I] It was only four short months before the tyrant fell. Sell your soul for four months of healthy new life? Zhu Chi realized that he had been pitied by the devil. The night was deep and dewy, and the cold wind scraped across one's face like a knife. Zhu Chi didn't put down the car curtain, he needed the cold wind to let himself suppress the anger in his heart, so as to maintain rational thinking. After reading the Pullan fate line, Zhu Chi realized where the important node of the tyrant's fate was- Western Continent, September 17, 1432. --that is, tomorrow. To-morrow morning, at first light, the old Duke of Buckingham, who was the most devoted uncle to him, will be hanged. Zhu Chi's rebirth was two days late, and the bastard tyrant of his predecessor had already given the order to execute the Duke of Buckingham. Only, Zhu Chi regretted it shortly after carefully recalling and confirming that the king had given the order, and sent a fast horse to retrieve the order. Zhu Chi flexed his fingers and gently tapped on the rail of the car, his face somewhat cold. The messenger of the royal council left the palace in less than half a day, and the fast horses sent by the king were fully capable of stopping the person. However, the Duke of Buckingham was still executed. Obviously, the king's people who recovered the order were stopped. Someone wanted the king to lose his most important minister and loved ones. ........................... With a sharp tug on the reins, the Chief of the Inner Court stopped the rushing carriage alive. He pressed his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist, his face very ugly. The suddenly stopped steed was startled and raised its front hooves to neigh from its nose. "Your Majesty, there is a situation." The Chief of the Inner Court lowered his voice, his tone a little nervous. When the carriage came to a sharp stop Zhu Chi pressed down on the railing with one hand and leaned his body forward to avoid not crashing headfirst into the wall of the car. His expression was calm, not surprised at all. He had left the palace in secret. Two days ago, after Zhu Chi had lost his temper with his ministers of the Imperial Council, he had locked himself in his chambers and stayed behind closed doors. It wasn't the first time Pourland had done this sort of thing. None of the ministers could do anything about the irritable teenage king. Taking advantage of this cover, Zhu Chi took his inner court chief with him and left the palace. In the original fate line, this somewhat weak inner court chief was killed for his king, and was the most suitable and trustworthy person Zhu Chi thought of at that time. The king's fast horse would have been stopped by someone, and the enemy must have already placed fine eyes in the royal palace. Zhu Chi knew in his heart that by the afternoon of the next day at best, people would realize that the king was no longer in the castle. He didn't even think about how long he could hide it, and the intercepting pursuers didn't catch up until now was already considered an unexpected blessing. At this moment, they were in the wilderness. Behind them was a small patch of dark woods that had just passed through, and at this moment there were some shadows that were traveling through the woods, closing in on them. In front of them was the entrance to the canyon passage, faintly scattered torches, in the corner of the moonlight can see a little bit of wooden fence acting as a barricade. They were pinned down. "Your Majesty, please stay in the car and do not ......" The Chief of the Inner Court tugged at the reins with one hand and drew his sword with the other. "Forward." Zhu Chi interrupted. The Chief of the Inner Court froze slightly, and he heard a bit of familiarity in the teenage king's voice for the longest time - the toughness and irrefutability that was in the same vein as His Majesty, the late King William. Vaguely, the Inner Court Chief seemed to hear the sound of a machine rattle. "Charge!" Zhu Chi ordered. The Chief of the Inner Court loosened the tightly tugged reins, and his sword dug into the head horse's ass. The head horse ate the pain, neighing, and in an instant galloped out wildly, even as the other steeds let go of their hooves. The carriage almost flew past the ground, making a disturbingly loud noise. The carriage seemed like it might fall apart at any time under such a wild gallop. The cavalry behind them rushed out from the dark woods. The other party was lightly armored and galloping at an extremely high speed, like a thick cloud of shadows. Zhu Chi ripped off the black velvet cloth used to cover the back half of the carriage. Through the bleak moonlight, Zhu Chi saw clearly the cavalry that was catching up. There were seventeen cavalrymen in total, all riding black horses and wearing unmarked heavy silver-colored chain mail[1]. The iron helmets covered their faces tightly, revealing only a slit, which was both a defense and a cover for their identities. Not unlike mercenaries. Zhu Chi judged calmly. The sound of hooves rushed, and black cavalry swept in like a whirlwind. In an instant, they closed in on the carriage, and the white snouts of the other horse could be faintly seen. The distance was enough, Zhu Chi no longer hesitated. He lifted the object held in his hand. --Here was a crossbow that had been banned by the church. Although Pulan was a tyrant, the military training he had received since childhood had given him excellent physical fitness. Thanks to this, Zhu Chi was able to hold the machine crossbow steadily on the speeding, bumpy carriage. Zhu Chi set up his crossbow and aimed at the cavalry through the "mountain lookout"[2] on the crossbow. Author's Notes: [1] Chainmail: metal armor commonly worn by medieval knights [2] Lookout Mountain: a sighting device