The Demon Lord Is Playing Dead Again

Once, she was the lofty master of the Sacred Temple, but she was killed after being ambushed. When she opened her eyes again, she had become a good-for-nothing whom everyone wanted dead. He was the master of the Demon Hall, ruthless and desireless in everyone’s eyes. No one knew that one glance in a past life had made him wait hundreds of years for her. Nor did they know the lengths he would go to, or the schemes he would devise, to make her his. A marriage swap, planned from the start, made her his woman. By day, he was the Demon Lord, lying in bed and pretending to be dead, secretly pining for her. By night, he was her mysterious, silver-masked mentor, seducing his devoted pupil. When his identity was exposed, she pressed a golden thread against his throat. “Any last words?” He blinked. “Have a son for me.” “Go to hell!” she roared. He immediately closed his eyes, playing along. A moment later, he opened them again. “Maybe I’ll wait until our son is born before I die.”