Chapter 1: The God of the Demon Realm The lush bamboo forest stands tall under the golden sunlight. The evening breeze gently passes through the bamboo forest, rustling the bamboo leaves and making a soft sound. The slender branches gently patter on the green bamboo, and the rustling so
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Capítulo 1
Chapter 1: The God of the Demon Realm
The lush bamboo forest stands tall under the golden sunlight. The evening breeze gently passes through the bamboo forest, rustling the bamboo leaves and making a soft sound. The slender branches gently patter on the green bamboo, and the rustling sound intertwines with the sound to create a pleasant and peaceful melody.
There was not a trace of irritation in it; listening to it only made one feel refreshed and relaxed.
Hidden among the verdant bamboo grove is a courtyard that blends seamlessly with the bamboo forest in the afterglow of the setting sun, without any sense of incongruity, as if it were meant to be there all along.
The man-made courtyard and the naturally formed bamboo forest complement each other, creating a peaceful and warm scene.
If someone were to intrude, even the most reckless person would have to tread carefully, unwilling to disturb this peaceful and serene beauty.
The golden-red glow of the setting sun bathed the bamboo forest, dancing gracefully on the bamboo leaves, shimmering like a fairyland, making it a place one would never want to leave.
"My lord, my lord... I will never dare to do it again, please spare my worthless life..."
A trembling plea for mercy and a heavy thud shattered the tranquility, the sound echoing from the courtyard and disturbing the twilight peace.
A person was kneeling on the hard bluestone floor, repeatedly banging their forehead against the ground; the heavy thuds came from there.
There were already dark bloodstains on the bluestone floor, and his forehead was a bloody mess, with thick blood flowing down his cheeks, making his whole face look so ferocious and terrifying.
If someone were to see this face now, they would surely gasp in shock, thinking they were seeing things.
Who would have thought that Qing Li, who roamed freely in the demon realm, would be in such a sorry state?
In the demon realm, who doesn't know Qing Li?
Even the demon army of the Demon Lord couldn't do anything to Qing Li. They once sent 300,000 demon soldiers, but they still couldn't surround and kill Qing Li, and he still managed to break through.
Qing Li once boasted that he would definitely take over the position of Demon Lord!
When Qing Li is mentioned, everyone avoids him like the plague.
Not to mention the ordinary demons in the demon realm, even the most powerful demon lords are wary of this person.
Yet Qing Li, who once commanded the winds and rains of the demon realm and instilled fear in everyone, was now kneeling in the hall, trembling with fear like a weak rabbit before a tiger's jaws.
Where is the high spirits they had when they fought against the demon army?
Where is the arrogant spirit of those who made wild pronouncements and were determined to seize the position of demon lord?
At this moment, Qing Li was shaking like a leaf, and the onlookers were afraid that he might accidentally shake all his bones to pieces.
"Lord, Lord..." Whether it was because he was too scared or because he had been begging for too long, Qing Li's voice was so hoarse that it sounded like it had been sanded.
Qingli kowtowed repeatedly while looking up pleadingly at the man sitting at the head of the hall.
The spacious chair could comfortably seat two strong men. The specially widened chair was covered with thick cushions, and judging from the soft luster of the fur on the carpet, it must have been made of the fur of a precious wild animal.
Sitting in such a soft chair is less like sitting and more like sinking into it; the soft, cloud-like comfort is an absolute top-notch enjoyment.
It is probably not even as comfortable and luxurious as the throne of the Demon Lord.
It's quite surprising to see such a chair in a bamboo forest in the wild.
One hand rested lazily on the armrest, its well-defined knuckles resembling fine jade carvings. The hand rested casually on the snow-white cushion, its slender fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, the rounded fingertips seemingly gleaming with a faint luster that mesmerized the eye.
Such perfect hands, yet they did not evoke any sense of beauty in Qing Li. With each gentle tap of those beautiful fingertips, his heart clenched, squeezing the blood out of his heart, unable to return. His chest grew colder and colder, as if his heart was slowly freezing.
"Qingli..." The voice rang out, flowing gently like a clear mountain spring, so clean and pure.
Just hearing this sound was like hearing the sound of flowers blooming in the mountains in March, so gentle, like a spring breeze on your face, exceptionally refreshing.
Why is he here?
The next five words, however, froze the spring atmosphere in the room, instantly turning the early spring of March into the cold winter of December.
These words were not spoken to him. Qing Li froze in fear, his kowtowing ceasing abruptly: "Your Majesty, spare me... spare me..."
The man, who had been reclining in the large, soft chair, laughed. His smile was like a spring breeze rippling across a lake, creating warm, gentle waves.
However, this seemingly gentle smile turned Qing Li's face deathly pale, making him look like a dead man.
"My lord, I..." Before he could even utter a short scream, Qing Li collapsed to the ground, his eyes wide open, revealing unbelievable terror.
A thin red line slowly gathered at the throat, and blood gradually surfaced, soon leaving a pool of crimson blood on the ground.
Qing Li, a powerful and influential figure who once dominated the demon realm, died here without a trace.
The afterglow of the setting sun reflected off the blood beneath him, creating a scene of utter allure.
Looking at the pool of blood on the ground, the man slightly furrowed his handsome, sword-like eyebrows.
A gray-clad figure appeared instantly, flashing through the hall like a ghost, and all the unsightly objects on the ground vanished.
Not to mention Qing Li's corpse, even that glaring crimson stain had vanished. The smooth bluestone floor was spotless, as if Qing Li had never existed, and as if no one had ever pleaded or kowtowed here.
A graceful woman carrying a tray walked slowly
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