The Demon Lord is a Heartbreaker - Chapter 2

The music drifted through the air, melodious and unending.

High upon the circular Gold-Silver Stage, dozens of performers moved with sleeves fluttering like clouds. Each held a sword, their movements crisp and decisive, cutting through the air with a sharp, clean elegance.

The surrounding crowd watched, enthralled.

Such “sword dances” were a rare sight. Usually, the performances here consisted of soft, graceful fan dances, or scholarly displays of painting and chess, refined pursuits that most people found difficult to appreciate and even harder to stay interested in.

The shift to a sword dance today was entirely due to the person sitting at the very center of the guest area.

She had bought out the entire venue for the evening; naturally, her word was law.

It was the ultimate display of squandering gold like dust.

Many in the crowd looked toward her with eyes full of envy.

It was a woman, dressed in a red robe as vibrant as a blazing fire. She looked exceptionally flamboyant, reclining lazily as she was surrounded by a circle of beauties.

A smile played on her lips. She watched the sword dance with keen interest while casually tilting her head to accept a peanut from the hand of a beautiful attendant. She looked utterly content, a picture of carefree indulgence.

“Master, shouldn’t we perhaps… find somewhere else?” Shen Changsheng stood stiffly by her side, looking deeply uncomfortable.

She rarely visited such places of entertainment. Being the target of so many gazes made her awkwardness spike to a breaking point.

Shen Li teased her, “You’ve been the Young Master for so many years; you really shouldn’t be this shy.”

Shen Li herself was perfectly at ease with being the center of attention. As the Demon Venerable, she stood above tens of thousands; she was used to being watched.

“I just never come to places like this,” Shen Changsheng muttered under her breath. “Besides, Immortal Venerable Xuanguang is a person of quiet tastes. She likely wouldn’t enjoy a place like this.”

Tsk.

They hadn’t even formed a cultivation bond yet, and here was her disciple, already worrying about the other woman’s preferences. If they actually tied the knot, Shen Changsheng would probably hand over the entire Demon Realm on a silver platter.

Shen Li decided to poke fun at her: “Then do you know that your Master loves places like this the most?”

 If your Master and Immortal Venerable Xuanguang both fell into a river, which one would you save?

Shen Changsheng didn’t catch the underlying joke. She took the question seriously, pondering Shen Li’s words.

“A place like this” referred to the Moon-Gathering Pavilion.

The tower stood dozens of stories high, built by the Shadow Pavilion, the foremost merchant guild in the land. Aside from watching dancers and drinking, it offered everything: quiet rooms for meditation, sparring partners for martial practice, and famous teachers for those seeking guidance in their cultivation.

As long as one could pay the price, anything was possible.

However, most cultivators who could afford it already came from prestigious backgrounds with their own teachers. Those without a lineage or a clan usually couldn’t afford the fees. Thus, the pavilion remained primarily a playground for the wealthy.

At least, that was the case for Shen Li.

No matter how vast the Shadow Pavilion’s reach was, they couldn’t possibly recruit a master capable of giving pointers to the Demon Venerable herself.

But Master liked this place. she liked to have fun.

Shen Changsheng felt a bit lost. “This.”

Shen Li had only spoken in passing, but seeing the genuine conflict on her disciple’s face, her amusement suddenly flickered out. She felt a wave of listlessness.

She had asked if Shen Changsheng knew her tastes, but of course, the girl didn’t.

Though Shen Changsheng was technically the Young Master of the Demon Realm and her disciple, they had spent very little time together. Shen Li had never truly taught her anything.

Her only vivid memory was from a time when she was drifting in a half-sleep, hearing a very gentle voice telling her that she would have a disciple named Shen Changsheng.

She remembered the name, and so, when she woke, she stepped into the role of a Master.

Past events were like smoke, drifting and thin.

Shen Li curled her lips into a faint, wry smile.

Fortunately, she was naturally thick-skinned and fickle. Her moods came and went like the wind, and soon she was cheerfully watching the sword dance again.

At a particularly brilliant move, she couldn’t help but clap, her voice ringing out: “Bravo!”

As she cheered, she suddenly felt a sharp, piercing gaze boring into her back.

She turned around and saw two figures standing there.

Her attention was immediately captured by the woman in front.

She was dressed in flowing white robes adorned with crane motifs. The moonlight fell across her features, highlighting a face that was naturally exquisite yet frostily cold. She held a sword in one hand, her gaze sharp enough to reveal the honed edge of a master sword cultivator.

Even without Shen Changsheng’s introduction, Shen Li knew exactly who this was.

Sure enough, Shen Changsheng spotted the two newcomers and rushed forward eagerly: “Immortal Venerable Xuanguang!”

She bowed—a respectful greeting from a junior to a senior—before turning to the person behind her, Lu Yaoshuang, with a face full of joy: “Shuangshuang!”

So, it truly was the famous Immortal Venerable Xuanguang.

The woman who “preferred quiet.”

Shen Li casually tossed a few high-quality spirit pearls onto the table, nodding to her attendants. “Divide these among yourselves.”

The beauties surrounding her were delighted. They gathered the pearls and discreetly withdrew, murmuring, “Thank you, noble guest.”

Only then did Shen Li look seriously at the Immortal Venerable. “Please, have a seat.”

She gestured forward with a polite, welcoming motion.

Immortal Venerable Xuanguang watched her intently. She was still reeling from Shen Li’s gaze—it had held surprise and even a touch of admiration for her beauty, but nothing else. It was the gaze of a complete stranger.

She doesn’t recognize me.

Her eyes traced Shen Li’s face—from her brow to her eyes, from her nose to her lips—scanning her repeatedly.

It had been nearly five hundred years.

A long, agonizing time.

But she could never forget that face.

Was it identical to the woman before her?

No.

In truth, they were only seventy or eighty percent alike.

But seventy percent was more than enough.

Her grip tightened on her sword, the Xuanguang blade. Ignoring Shen Li’s hospitable gesture entirely, she spoke with a voice that could cut glass: “So, you are the Demon Venerable? May I ask your name?”

The words were formal enough, but the coldness in her eyes was almost overflowing—a chill so deep it could cause frostbite.

The rumors were true: she loathed the Demon Race to her very core.

Shen Li pulled her robes tighter around her, matched the woman’s coldness with her own indifference. “Before asking for someone else’s name, shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?”

“Ye Guixue,” the Immortal Venerable answered instantly, her voice still laden with that unyielding chill.

Shen Li blinked, startled.

Though the woman hadn’t specified which characters made up her name, the moment Shen Li heard the sound, the characters for “Night Returns to Snow” (夜歸雪) immediately sprang to mind.

It was a beautiful name.

Her eyes brightened slightly. Since she thought it, she said it: “A fine name!”

“Your turn,” Ye Guixue replied, unmoved. Her gaze remained fixed on Shen Li.

What a boring woman, Shen Li thought.

The fleeting goodwill she felt for the name evaporated instantly.

She replied flatly, “Shen Li.”

Shen. Li.

Ye Guixue’s hand tightened on her sword hilt.

On the stage, the music played on. The dancers were reaching the finale, their long swords pulling back with a resonant chime of steel.

Ye Guixue looked up at the stage, her expression darkening by another degree. “You are interested in swordplay?”

Not particularly. Shen Li didn’t even practice the sword. She had only ordered the performance because of the rumors surrounding Ye Guixue’s own skills.

Shen Li shook her head, but before she could speak, Ye Guixue cut her off: “If you are interested, why settle for watching these performers? Swordplay was never meant to be a mere spectacle for entertainment.”

“You should come up and experience it for yourself.”

With a sudden movement, she leapt onto the high stage. “All of you, leave.”

The dozen dancers froze. They held their swords—decorated with colorful ribbons and tassels—in total confusion, looking toward Shen Li for direction.

While the Immortal Venerable Xuanguang was world-famous, they hadn’t forgotten who the “noble guest” was that had paid a fortune for their time.

Shen Li waved a hand dismissively. “You should listen to the Immortal Venerable.”

The dancers fled as if granted a divine reprieve, leaving the stage entirely to Ye Guixue.

“Immortal Venerable Xuanguang!”

“Look! Is that really her?”

Excited whispers broke out among the spectators. After all, Ye Guixue was a legend of the Xuanqing Sect; her fame far outstripped that of a Demon Venerable who had been slumbering for years and rarely showed her face.

Shen Li looked up. The “quiet-loving” Ye Guixue stood there under the collective gaze of the crowd, her expression unchanged.

In fact, she was entirely expressionless.

Just as Shen Li was about to say something flippant, Ye Guixue looked down at her. She stood there, looking down from her height, appearing to be exerting immense effort to restrain some hidden emotion.

“Come up and defeat me,” Ye Guixue said coldly. “If you do, I will agree to the union between Lu Yaoshuang and Shen Changsheng.”

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