The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

"Hehe, I knew you would say that." Sherry playfully winked and hooked her index finger behind her back.

At that moment, her elder sister, Helen, appeared at the city gates not far away.

Upon seeing the Demon King following behind her younger sister, she dropped to one knee in a formal salute, presenting Luo Yan with the highest ceremonial etiquette of the Dark Night Elf Tribe.

"Most exalted Demon King, Lord of the Great Graveyard, please forgive my father's inability to personally welcome you. He is currently preparing the ceremony in the council hall..."

Her poised and graceful demeanor stood in striking contrast to Sherry's impish vitality.

Including that immense tolerance and far-sighted perspective.

If not for the shared light purple locks and emerald green eyes, Luo Yan could hardly believe the two were actually sisters.

"Rise, please. The ceremony is something I instructed him to prepare. You can simply lead me there."

Helen stood up respectfully, nodded, and replied.

"Thank you for your understanding. Please follow me."

With that, she looked toward her younger sister, signaling with her eyes for Sherry to return to her post. It was evident she'd take care of things from here.

Sherry, with a pitiful expression, glanced at her elder sister, attempting to weasel out of her duties, only to find Helen unmoved. Left with no choice, she clicked her tongue in frustration, sulkily lowered her head, and trudged back the way she came.

Watching her younger sister leave, a faint trace of worry flickered across Helen's face. Turning to Luo Yan, she spoke with a hint of concern.

"... Sherry tends to act a bit too carefree. We will strengthen her discipline in the future. If she has in any way offended you, I ask that you forgive her, seeing as she is still young."

By elf standards, Sherry's age was indeed not much, although by human reckoning, both sisters were old enough to be grandmothers.

"How could she possibly offend me?" Luo Yan smiled, teasingly adding, "Rather than lecturing her, I think you should learn from her. Loosen up a bit—being so tightly wound all the time makes even me feel unnervingly tense on occasion."

Helen froze for a moment, looking at him in surprise as though seeing a side of him she had never noticed before.

"You... feel tense as well?"

"Of course," Luo Yan nodded with a gentle smile and said in a warm tone, "That's why I hope you can relax a little. Formal occasions aside, there's no need to treat me like an outsider in everyday settings."

"If... if that's what you wish." Helen took a deep breath, letting her shoulders relax.

Yet, perhaps unused to this state of ease, her expression turned awkward again, like pushing down on one end of a floating gourd only for another end to resurface.

Realizing his words of comfort had backfired, Luo Yan chuckled helplessly and chose to say no more. Quietly following behind her, he crossed the gates and stepped into the city of the Gray Wind Tribe.

Round stone slabs floated atop the vibrant grass, forming a meandering stone path that extended like lily pads across a pond, weaving its way toward the central treehouse of the city.

Aware of the sudden arrival of guests, curious heads peeked out from beneath the lush canopy of leaves overhead.

When they spotted the guest alongside Helen as the Demon King himself, the Dark Night Elves in the treehouse showed expressions of astonishment.

Some elves sat on tree branches, while others leapt down, gathering along both sides of the path, eager to get a clearer view. They showed none of their usual aloofness or the cold distance they often displayed to outsiders.

One handsome young elf sitting atop the treehouse pulled out a six-stringed guitar, plucking its strings with nimble fingers like a minstrel at a tavern, playing an energetic and joyful tune.

Accompanied by the lilting music, a young woman was the first to lift her voice in song, soon joined by others.

Their voices, like a chorus of nightingales, merged beneath the dappled shadows into a flowing stream of sound, winding its way into listening ears. Even the birds perched atop the trees ceased their chirping, entranced by the mesmerizing melody.

They used the graceful and winding power of music, instead of flowers or red carpets, to pave the path ahead for the two.

Feeling the warmth of the Gray Wind Tribe through their harmonious singing, Luo Yan smiled and waved back in greeting.

Unlike humans who marked welcomes with cheer and clamor, the elves had a flair for expressing emotions through art, embedding their fervent feelings into subtler, more poetic gestures than applause and whistles.

They displayed this in forms like painting, gardening, and music—a craft in which nearly everyone seemed skilled.

From those songs, Luo Yan could sense their gratitude and welcome.

Watching the tribespeople lining the path in spontaneous display of hospitality, Helen unconsciously let a smile grace her lips, tension easing from her nerves bit by bit.

Just then, a girl even younger than Sherry stepped out from the crowd, holding a colorful bouquet. She stood before the pair, her luminous eyes gazing up at him.

Luo Yan cast a questioning look toward Helen, who curved her lips slightly and spoke in a soft tone.

"Those flowers were likely cultivated by her own hands. We only offer them to those we deeply venerate or hold in the highest regard."

Luo Yan smiled and said, "It seems if I refuse, someone might be heartbroken."

"Not necessarily..."

Helen murmured softly, but Luo Yan, already walking beside her, had paused his stride. He extended his hands to accept the bouquet from the young girl.

"Thank you for the flowers. I like them very much."

With a friendly smile, Luo Yan expressed his gratitude. Yet the young girl did not step aside to make way; instead, she shyly gazed up at him, as though there was more she wished to say.