Dreams Without Life: Every Step Brings Tenderness

This isn't a lighthearted story. It may break your heart, but it's not without its joys.

Becoming a god is no simple matter for a witch. What is it like to endure eighty-one lashes from a demon-sundering whip? Could anyone truly understand? Why not just be a demon? Why insist on becoming a god?

If she had never met him fifty thousand years ago, she would have remained a little girl cherished by her parents. Though the striking crimson birthmark on her forehead drew attention, who would have seen it if she stayed secluded in the mountains and woods?

If she had never met him again fifty thousand years later, perhaps she would have been dragged back to the demon realm and married to that wicked, bloodthirsty Demon Lord whose love ran deep as the sea. She could have become his carefree wife. What would the world's turmoil have had to do with her?

But life offers no such endless what-ifs.

Meeting him fifty thousand years ago left her home destroyed, her loved ones dead, and her own life hanging by a thread.

Meeting him again fifty thousand years later bound her heart and soul to him, leaving her to fall for him at every turn.

Now, another fifty thousand years have passed. She stands before him once more, stirring up a storm that shakes heaven and earth and unleashing a bloody upheaval.

All of it is because of him.