In my previous life, out of kindness, I picked up an abandoned sparrow with a broken wing and formed a contract with him. My senior brothers urged me again and again to think it over. As I stroked his broken wing, I seemed to see myself as I once was, having crippled my own cultivation to protect the sect. I spent countless treasures of heaven and earth and cared for him devotedly for ten years. But once he had fully transformed, the first thing he did was kill me. His true identity was that of an unrivaled Demon Lord. Cursed in ancient times, he had broken his wing to survive. He had formed a contract with me only to transfer the heavenly punishment onto me. The next moment, divine retribution descended, and golden thunder crashed down upon me. He watched as I writhed in agony in the mud, my skin splitting apart inch by inch, his voice cold as ice. He had clearly wanted me dead, yet when my body and soul were extinguished, he stared at me in terror, as if he’d seen a ghost.
