He wished he could take his master's place and rush into the Flying Craft, annihilating both himself and the Demon Head. Only by such an act, could he save Madam's purity.
But...
He couldn't do it, simply couldn't do it; he was merely the Artifact Soul of the Flying Craft, unable to set foot outside without Madam's command.
So, he could only squat obediently on the outside, eyes hazy, staring dumbly at the White Jade Flyer, enduring the torment of that demonic voice.
...
Inside the Flying Craft.
The temperature was still climbing. At this moment, there on the enormous Cold Jade Bed, the Demon Empress lay face down, her complexion feverishly hot, body curving gracefully. Her purple silk dress had already slipped off, revealing large expanses of snow-white skin, like ice yet as smooth as jade, tinged with layers of blush, as if drunk, like a sky full of morning clouds.
