At the finale of the fairy tale drama that I have been following for three years, my beloved villain, the Demon Lord, was eviscerated and died in the heavy snow.
I was so angry that I had a heart attack and passed out on the spot.
When I opened my eyes, I became the saint of the first sect of the Righteous Path, holding a long sword, ready to pierce the devil's forehead.
At this time, he was covered in blood and was staring at me with his broken and desperate eyes.
Thousands of monks around him shouted in unison: "Holy girl, kill him! Get rid of harm for the people!"
I put the long sword across the side of my neck with my backhand and glanced coldly at the audience.
"Whoever dares to touch him will be buried with the rest of the world."
Everyone in the house was shocked, but the devil who originally wanted to die actually grabbed the hem of my skirt in front of everyone.
