Dreams Without Life: Every Step Brings Tenderness

This is not a lighthearted story. It can be heart-wrenching, but it is not without its charms.

For a witch to become a god, is it really as simple as taking on a new identity? Eighty-one lashes from the Demon-Exterminating Whip: who could understand what that feels like? Isn't it enough to just be a demon? Why insist on becoming a god?

If she hadn't met him fifty thousand years ago, she would have remained a little girl cherished by her parents. Though she was born with a striking crimson birthmark on her forehead, who would have noticed it while she lived in seclusion deep in the mountains?

If she hadn't met him again fifty thousand years later, she might have been dragged back to the Demon Realm and married to that bewitching, bloodthirsty Demon Lord who loved her with all his heart. She would have become his carefree wife, untouched by the turmoil of the outside world.

But there are no such things as endless what-ifs.

Fifty thousand years ago, meeting him cost her her home and family, and nearly her life.

Fifty thousand years later, meeting him again stirred her soul and made her heart ache with every step.

Now, another fifty thousand years have passed in the blink of an eye. She stands before him once more, stirring up a storm that shakes heaven and earth and unleashing chaos stained with blood.

All of it is because of him.