When Shen Qingluo was seventeen, his family was gone.
On the night when her family was exterminated, she was hidden in a secret room by her father and watched from the gap as the man in black chopped off his father's head with a knife. The man wore the ring of the evil god's totem on his hand and was grinning ferociously in the firelight.
She escaped, clutched the jade pendant given by her father, and fled thousands of miles to the Lingxiao Sect - the place she had worshiped since she was a child. There was the Immortal Qingyan whom she had knelt in front of the portrait to make a wish for.
The Immortal Gate will not accept you. Because she is stained with demonic energy.
The moment the mountain door closed in front of her, something broke in Shen Qingluo's heart. It's not faith, it's the breath of life.
She rolled down the cliff and woke up with a black sword stuck next to her. There was a voice in the sword, lazily and with a smile: "Want to become a devil? You are not qualified yet."
That's Li Hanyuan. A giant of demonic power who was sealed thousands of years ago. A remnant soul with a mean mouth and a soft heart. He has lived for too long and has not met a living person for a long time.
They made a deal: he would teach her to become stronger, and she would help him find a way to regain his body.
No one expected what happened next——
She struggled with living paper figures in a deserted village, faced her own fears in an ancient well, and burned hundreds of infant souls to death in a mass grave. She killed the prince, the elders, and everyone who owed her anything.
Every time when I couldn't hold on anymore, that voice would sound: "Shen Qingluo, I'm here."
Li Hanyuan never meant what he said. Only in this sentence, he did it.
And the little girl who once knelt in front of the mountain gate finally stood on the top of the immortal gate one day, looked at the elder who was kneeling on the ground, and said softly: "I don't worship immortals."
Behind her, a man in black leaned on his sword and smiled lazily: "Then worship me? I'm not very good at it. I've been dead for too many years."
The wind blew and she couldn't help laughing.
Intention: The difference between immortals and demons does not depend on one's origin or cultivation, but on whether one remembers to stand up when kneeling down.