After His Demise, the Demon Lord's Doted Canary Finally Sees the Light - Chapter 1

A crack of a whip. A long, thorny whip strikes the pale, fragile back of a young man, leaving a horrifying, bloody mark. He is Qiu Fuxue, and he bites down on his lip to suppress a cry of pain.

On the Spirit Extermination Altar, the elder in charge of the punishment, Elder Dōng Zé, glares at him. In front of a crowd of onlookers and disciples from the Thousand Thoughts Sect, he demands, “Qiu Fuxue! Do you admit your guilt?”

Qiu Fuxue has just exhausted all of his cultivation to seal away the “Winged Butterfly,” one of the Nine Fiends, returning it to the demon realm. He is completely drained of power. His voice is weak and ethereal as he answers, “…This disciple admits his guilt.”

Another crack of the whip follows. Qiu Fuxue, his spiritual energy gone, cannot stop a pained gasp from escaping. His clothes, once neat, are now tattered from the battle. He kneels on the altar, his wrists, which appear frail and easily broken, are shackled to a torture rack with thick, dark chains. His body is so weak that without the chains holding him up, he couldn’t even stay on his knees.

The brutal torture continues relentlessly. Qiu Fuxue’s thin lips are raw from biting them, as he fears another cry of pain might displease Elder Dōng Zé. His gaze unfocuses as he lifts his head slightly, seeing the crying figures of a couple in the crowd. This couple’s eight-year-old son was the only innocent he failed to save. The boy’s death weighs heavily on his conscience.

He whispers, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Even as the elder infuses the whip with spiritual energy for more pain, Qiu Fuxue’s mind drifts back to his deep regret. The villagers who saw the event are crying, and some are jeering at Qiu Fuxue, believing he should have saved the child. The Thousand Thoughts Sect disciples defend their once-glorious senior brother, but the villagers quickly silence them. They feel that everyone else can make a mistake, but not Qiu Fuxue. For over twenty years, the sect’s pure spiritual energy has nurtured him, and they believe he is responsible for protecting the defenseless mortals from fiends.

The torture on the Spirit Extermination Altar lasts three days. After this punishment, Qiu Fuxue’s body, stripped of its cultivation, is barely alive. His chains are soaked in blood, his head hangs low, and his fingers dangle lifelessly, as crimson liquid drips from his arms. The crowd disperses and gathers, but the bereaved parents stay, stubbornly refusing to leave.

Suddenly, a strange darkness envelops the land. A demonic presence is felt, and Qiu Fuxue, still weak, struggles to warn everyone, but his voice is broken and no one listens.

A light, mocking voice echoes from the void: “Heh… little immortal lord, how did you get into such a miserable state?”

A twisted vine erupts from the ground, piercing the chest of a nearby mortal, and blood splatters everywhere. The crowd panics as more vines appear, crawling onto the altar and wrapping around Qiu Fuxue’s neck. A young man, Lún Líng, a subordinate of the Demon Lord, appears. He mocks Qiu Fuxue, explaining that his master, the Demon Lord Jiǔfāng Cāngzé, came to watch the spectacle.

Qiu Fuxue, too weak to fight, can only spit out one word: “…Get lost!” Lún Líng, who had been defeated by Qiu Fuxue multiple times in the past, only smiles more widely at the insult. He tightens the vine around Qiu Fuxue’s neck, relishing his suffering, and forces him to watch the carnage below.

Suddenly, the vine loosens, and Qiu Fuxue gasps for air, coughing violently. The next instant, a sharp spear appears beneath his chin, forcing him to look up. His vision is blurry, but he can still make out the person who wields it—it’s Jiǔfāng Cāngzé.

The Demon Lord shatters Qiu Fuxue’s chains, and without their support, he collapses to the ground. Jiǔfāng Cāngzé then cruelly steps on his back, a low voice taunting him. “Qiu Fuxue, instead of worrying about others, you should worry about yourself.”

Qiu Fuxue, trembling with pain, remains silent. After a moment, Jiǔfāng Cāngzé kicks him aside, his eyes filling with a cruel, murderous look as he turns to the fleeing mortals. Qiu Fuxue, crumpled at the edge of the altar, reaches out a shaking hand, desperately trying to stop him. “No… don’t!” But it’s no use. Jiǔfāng Cāngzé’s spear, “Héngjiāng” (which he named himself after killing his way to the top), leaves only death in its wake.

By the time the Thousand Thoughts Sect arrives, it’s too late. The sect master, Yuán Lìtiān, sees the field of corpses and his beloved disciple being humiliated. He cries out, “Demon! Release Fuxue now! Or we won’t be polite!”

Jiǔfāng Cāngzé laughs, yanking Qiu Fuxue’s hair to face the crowd. “Sect Master Yuán, it sounds like you believe I was the one who did this to him.” He points out that the sect’s punishment is what left Qiu Fuxue vulnerable. He then proposes a deal: “Sect Master Yuán, how about this trade: Qiu Fuxue in exchange for the safety of your entire sect?”

Yuán Lìtiān falls silent. He knows his sect is no match for the Demon Lord. Qiu Fuxue, enraged, glares at Jiǔfāng Cāngzé, his lips trembling as he spits out, “You… are despicable!”

Jiǔfāng Cāngzé smirks, his hand patting the young man’s blood-soaked face. “Since you’re not answering, Sect Master, I’ll take that as a yes.”