There is no place in my body that does not hurt.
Xu Ci's last memory still remained at the moment when he blew himself up - twelve old immortals surrounded him and beat him, Jian Wuji from the Tianjian Sect pierced his chest with a sword, Qingxuan from the Qingyun Sect tied the immortal rope around his neck, and those gang of bastards who claimed to be righteous, each and every one of them shouted "Practice for Heaven", and their hands were darker than anyone else.
He Xu Ci has been a demon king for eight hundred years, killing people, slaughtering cities, and saving people. But those people in the world of cultivation don't care about this. They say that if you are a devil, you are a devil, and the devil deserves to die.
