The Demon Lord is a Heartbreaker - Chapter 1

Shen Li woke to the sound of weeping.

It was a jagged, intermittent sound, rising and falling with the wind. It felt as though the person was trying desperately to hold it back, making the grief sound unnervingly hollow and bleak.

For a moment, Shen Li thought she was dead. Why else would she hear the usually composed Young Mistress of the Demon Race, Shen Changsheng, crying so miserably?

But no. She wasn’t dead.

She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling of the palace dark and etched with the unique runic arrays of the Demon Realm. Her voice came out raspy and tired: “Are you practicing for a funeral? Your master isn’t dead yet!”

Shen Changsheng froze, her eyes lighting up with sudden joy. “Master! You’re awake!”

She looked up, tears still shimmering in her eyes. But then, as if remembering something, the joy was instantly swallowed by sorrow. “I wasn’t crying for you, Master.”

Well, then. Apparently, something existed that was even more tragic to Changsheng than her master’s death.

Shen Li sat up, expressionless. “So, you wouldn’t be sad if I actually died?”

Changsheng’s hand, reaching out to support her, faltered. She panicked, “Of course not, Master! That’s not what I meant!”

“So you really are hoping for my end?” Shen Li pressed, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“No! Master, of course not! How could you die?  Changsheng’s face went pale; she was completely flustered.

Shen Li couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m just teasing.” It was rare to see the girl so rattled; it was actually quite entertaining.

Shen Changsheng stood dazed for a moment, then the tears began to well up again.

Shen Li was startled. “You’re crying again?” Is her “budget” disciple really this sensitive?

The more she tried to soothe her, the harder Changsheng cried.

“What is it? Just tell me,” Shen Li sat up straight, rubbing her temples. Her expression turned serious, her eyes bright the sharp, commanding look Changsheng rarely saw.

This was Shen Li, the Demon Lord, Master of the Yellow Springs Seal. A woman who had mastered the eighth level of the Netherworld Arts and stood at the very pinnacle of the world.

Changsheng blinked, suddenly feeling that her master was someone she could truly lean on. So, she told her everything.

She had a lover. It was an old flame from long ago back before the demons and humans had even signed the peace treaty. Shen Li hadn’t known about it, which made sense. To break through to the ninth level of her cultivation, Shen Li had spent day and night in seclusion. When she finally neared success, she suffered a violent backlash, fell into a deep coma, and had been drifting in and out of sleep ever since. She had missed a lot.

Changsheng continued her story. Her lover, Lu Yaoshuang, was a disciple of an Immortal Sect.

An Immortal disciple. Slaying demons was practically their job description. Shen Li glanced at Changsheng’s face. Features are well-proportioned, she’s good-looking… I suppose she’ll do. Did that girl cross the natural boundary between good and evil just for a pretty face?

She pulled her thoughts back and kept listening.

At first, the two faced the expected friction between their races. But Changsheng was the Young Mistress; while Shen Li slept, she handled the Demon Realm’s affairs and helped broker the peace treaty. In theory, there shouldn’t be any obstacles left. In fact, their union should have been seen as a bridge to further strengthen the bond between their peoples.

“The logic is sound,” Changsheng said, her voice heavy with grief. “But Shuangshuang’s master refuses to agree. She loathes the Demon Race with every fiber of her being. Neither of us can convince her.”

“Shuangshuang was raised by her. She says that while her lover is important, her master is the most important person in her heart. If her master doesn’t give her blessing, she won’t disobey.”

And who was this master? Immortal Venerable Xuanguang of the Xuanqing Sect.

She was the pillar of the righteous path, cold and ethereal. She was a figure every cultivator looked up to as a goal. Unfortunately, her hatred for demons was legendary. Even with the current peace, she refused to let her disciple jump into the “fire pit.”

Rumor had it her hatred stemmed from a betrayal in her youth. She had fallen for a demon loved them enough to abandon everything only to be stabbed through the heart by that very person. That demon had intended to kill her to bring glory to the Demon Race.

The Immortal had nearly died. But in that final moment, she turned her heartbreak into a blade. She achieved enlightenment through her dying love, mastered the Sword of Heartlessness, and killed the demon. Since then, her heart has been a fortress of ice. She hated all demons, and she loathed every heartbreaker on earth.

“She will never let us be together,” Changsheng wiped her face.

“What are you panicking for?”

Shen Li pulled Changsheng up from the floor. With a flick of her left hand, a fan appeared in her palm. She gripped the handle, feeling a warmth that reminded her of her own master. She spoke with a gentle, steady confidence: “With your master here, I’ll make sure you get exactly what you want.”

Clang—

The sound of a sword being unsheathed was short and crisp. In the white mist, a deep mountain loomed ahead, flanked by ancient trees. Several figures blurred through the fog at a speed so great that a recording stone could only capture their afterimages. These were high-level cultivators, yet they were running for their lives.

They were so close to the safety of the mountain. Five hundred paces, a hundred, fifty, one!

Just as hope flared, the sound of a sword rang out.

One strike. Clean, decisive, with no hesitation. The intent pierced through flesh, leaving a spray of crimson. The brilliant blade did a playful loop in the air, not a single drop of blood on its surface, and landed neatly back into a fair, beautiful hand.

That was the Xuanguang Sword. And its owner was Immortal Venerable Xuanguang the woman who hated demons more than anyone else in the world.

The recording ended there. The stone crumbled to dust in Shen Li’s hand.

These stones were expensive sold mainly to sword cultivators to help them grasp the “intent” of the masters. Shen Li wasn’t a sword user, but she was curious about the woman. She had promised to help Changsheng, but looking at that footage… she realized she was currently at about a 50/50 match against the Immortal due to her recent injury. A physical fight might not end well for either of them.

And then there was the hatred.

The Immortal hadn’t just killed those people; she had let them get within one step of safety before striking. She wanted them to feel hope before crushing it. Cruel? Perhaps. But it proved her hatred was real.

Worse still, Shen Li felt a physical pain in her chest. Just watching the recording of that murderous sword intent made her heart ache. If a mere stone did this, would she drop dead just by meeting the woman in person?

That night, Shen Li did something she hadn’t done in years: she dreamed.

In the dream, a figure stood behind a veil of mist, looking at her with eyes that seemed to brim with tears a gaze that spoke a thousand words. Then, the scene shifted to a spring morning after a rain. Two voices were talking.

“Axuan, please? Just say yes. Pretty please, Axuan, I’m begging you.” The voice was playful and coquettish, clearly trying to coax ‘Axuan’ into something.

Shen Li perked up. This must be the technique for persuasion! she thought, trying to memorize every word.

“Master, it’s time to go.”

Shen Changsheng walked into the palace, her face full of hope. She saw Shen Li sitting there with her eyes half-closed. “Master? Are you okay?”

Shen Li opened her eyes, looking dazed. “Did I… dream?” She couldn’t remember a single thing about the dream’s content, and strangely, part of her didn’t want to.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

On the other side, in the Immortal Sect:

“Master, please. Just meet the Demon Lord once. Just hear what she has to say.”

The voice was soft and warm. Lu Yaoshuang was doing her best to plead her case, even going so far as to gently shake her master’s hand. “Please, just agree to it.”

Immortal Venerable Xuanguang looked at the girl’s hopeful face. For a fleeting second, she looked dazed.

“Master,” Lu Yaoshuang continued, “the peace treaty is signed, but the Demon Lord never personally showed her face to confirm it. If you refuse now and anger her, what if she changes her mind about the peace?”

It was a tactic Changsheng had taught her: use the safety of the human race to pressure her master.

The Immortal saw the slight swelling in her disciple’s eyes from crying. A flicker of hidden pain crossed her gaze. “Fine. I will meet her.”

She picked up a white jade talisman from the table it was wrapped in a persistent black mist, a calling card from the Demon Lord. She headed to the meeting place with Lu Yaoshuang.

When they arrived at the entrance, she heard a burst of bold, arrogant laughter. Sitting in the center was a woman with a brilliant, joyful face.

The Immortal Venerable froze. The moment she caught sight of the woman’s face; she felt as if she had been stabbed. She nearly lost her footing.

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