Volume One: The Nature of the Devil Does Not Change, and the Dead Devil's Heart Regrets Nothing
A man stood in an agricultural field where wheat stalks swayed like waves. The breeze whispered through the crops and tugged at his loose black robe. A green bamboo mask covered his face, and a strip of cloth hid the rest of his features, leaving only a pale, deathlike complexion exposed—like the skin of a young man long since extinguished. He gazed up at the sky, a faint smile resting on his lips.
In front of him stood a scarecrow meant to frighten crows away. Above, huge clouds hung heavy and low. The land itself—quiet after a catastrophic explosion—carried a chill that seeped into the bones, an unsettling silence that felt too special to be natural.
Behind the man, a rift in space-time tore open like an endless blue gate.
Someone stepped out.
He had long gray hair, a light beard, and eyes overflowing with tears, fury, and hatred. His clothes were soaked in blood. His voice came out strong, brimming with rage and loathing:
"Damn you, devil!! You won't escape today! Stop running like a rat, you [Information Deleted]! You'll die for your sins—sins the heavens will never forgive for eternity! And we will avenge my wife and my clan!!!"
The man in the field didn't move an inch. The faint smile vanished. He exhaled once, then turned to face the newcomer with suffocating steadiness.
The second man drew a sword from the sheath on his back. The blade carried the golden emblem of the Yang Clan, but it was eaten through with rust—nearly broken, corroded to the edge of collapse. The second man's hand trembled, fear seeping into his grip.
He lunged, the sword aimed straight at the first man.
The devil's pale expression didn't change. The faint smile returned, and he spoke with profound boredom as his eyes lingered on the weapon:
"Hmm… this sword? The same sword I used to stab your wife until she was torn into pieces… without stopping. Her painful death… was unbearably dull. And repetitive."
He lifted his hand. A crow feather appeared in his palm, then crumbled into black ash that scattered into the air.
"I've seen endings like this before. Every life is the same—boring. I have lived countless different lives, lives that cannot be counted or measured… and yet, in the end, they all became identical."
He stepped closer, closing the distance until he stared directly into the second man's eyes.
When the second man saw the devil's eyes—one a pure, shining white, the other a pitch-black abyss—his stomach lurched. He nearly vomited from the demonic aura inhabiting this person… or rather, inhabiting this devil. In that instant, he understood: the devil's nature had never changed, and his heart would never regret what he had done—not ever.
The devil spoke again, louder than before:
"Hah… Yi Shang. You are the most naive and irritating demon hunter of them all. You're driven by emotion, not reason. It's difficult to do anything with you; you act like a puppet, repeating words like 'clan,' 'family,' and 'loyalty' without independent thought… Tell me, Yi Shang—do you truly believe your clan would save you if you were the criminal?"
Yi Shang's face twisted into confusion—then snapped back into anger:
"Of course! A clan considers every one of its members the most important! Every person in the clan is talent! Every person is a reason it exists! And if I—let's assume, for the sake of argument—were some ruthless demonic criminal who chases personal gain and stupid goals like you… then my clan would always support me!"
The devil roared with laughter. An unnaturally wide smile spread across his face—so wide that Yi Shang shuddered. It wasn't a human smile at all.
It was a devil's smile.
Yi Shang's fear deepened when he saw blood leak from the devil's eye, sliding down his cheek, trailing to his jaw, then dripping into the golden wheat field.
And then the devil's voice—usually cold with demonic frost—came again:
"Is the individual the most important thing to a clan? Don't make me laugh, Yi Shang. A clan treats everyone as pawns—no, not just clans… everyone does. The strong, the rich, the talented, the clever, the genius—those are sacred, desired, protected. Everyone else is not. A young, talented heir is the clan's hope; someone with lesser talent becomes the clan's joke—or the sect's joke.
"I'll tell you about some of your precious Yang Clan's deeds: Qing Yan was the Yang Clan's talent—a boy with white hair, a slight cough, and fear in his eyes. But the Great Emperor's daughter claimed he harassed her. That angered her, and she demanded Qing Yan be handed over. So your clan surrendered him to the Emperor without any resistance. No… they expelled him from the clan and made him hated within it. What a predictable, repetitive scenario."
Yi Shang cut in, his voice hoarse:
"But the clan did that because it feared the Empe—"
A blade of energy sliced past Yi Shang's neck and part of his hair, severing the very space behind him—leaving a hollow, empty area devoid of existence.
The devil's aura crashed down like a mountain, forcing Yi Shang flat and slamming him into the ground.
"Do not interrupt me again, dog tethered to a rope called loyalty."
Yi Shang burst into loud laughter as he forced himself up, clutching his stomach from the pain. His intestines had been crushed.
"Go on… kill me, devil! I won't stop chasing you! I'll turn into a spirit that haunts you! I'll scream from the heavens to be reborn just to take revenge on you! But the hope in my heart won't die—hope of killing you…"
He lowered his head. The crazed laughter drained away, replaced by despair and grief.
(Unfortunately… I'm in unbearable pain. I'll die without revenge. We should have waited for the other hunters… I was angry… reckless.)
The devil shook his head. The smile vanished. He passed by Yi Shang in a swift motion as he answered:
"Don't despair. There is no obstacle that cannot be overcome. Do not chain your life into a vortex because of defeat. There is no true despair in this world—only humans who despair, who extinguish the spark of perseverance and ambition inside themselves.
"That is my advice… the last I will give you in the sect, Yi Shang. And also, the reason I didn't kill you is because…"
His words cut off.
Multiple space-time gates tore open at once, and many people poured out.
A roar thundered from a massive, heavily muscled man carrying a huge sword on his shoulder:
"Qing Yan, you bastard! You'll die today! May Buddha grant me the strength to kill you!"
From another side, a girl with red eyes and a face twisted with rage screamed, gripping two daggers:
"You stole my chastity, killed my children, and butchered my husband! I'll take revenge on you, you damned devil—rot in Hell!"
Weapons slid free. Killing intent flooded the wheat field.
The devil returned to his spot in front of the scarecrow. He clasped one hand behind his back and spoke in a calm voice—one that held not a shred of regret:
"Yi Shang… this is your chance to kill me. Go on. Do it."
The moment he finished, Yi Shang moved instantly, gripping the sword of his clan as he shouted:
"DIE!!"
He drove the blade into the devil's soul.
The devil spat thick blood, yet still spoke:
"The reason I didn't kill you, Yi Shang, is that this is the fifty-seventh layer of Hell… where beneficial power is forbidden. If not for this restriction, you would be dead, my foolish brother."
His body began fading like a blank white page.
Sorrow rose on Yi Shang's face.
When the devil vanished completely, he left behind only a white emptiness.
One by one, everyone began to leave. Yi Shang turned to one of the men and asked:
"Was what we did right? I feel… some regret for killing my brother in the sect."
The man opened a green gate of space and time, then looked at Yi Shang with pity:
"That devil had to die. What we did was right—he's a dark, demonic being that can't be trusted in any way. It's important that he ends."
Yi Shang remained alone at the place of death, swallowed by loneliness as the sword slipped from his hand.
[New Rebirth Location:] [World of Bound Shadows]
The devil opened his eyes and found himself in a pitch-black place. Thousands of eyes stared at him, radiating crushing power. His body was a mass of black, formless ink floating in a black void. He spoke with a cold smile:
"I have been reborn… what an annoying thing. And this place… But my devil heart does not regret my actions. If my goal requires me to become even more demonic in this life, then I will surpass the concept of evil itself… and that will only be a quick return to my natural state."
His shape shifted rapidly, stabilizing until his body became complete. He looked like a fifteen-year-old boy, with long black-and-white hair reaching his thighs. One eye was completely white, the other completely black. His skin was pale, his face corpse-like—distinct features, a small nose, and lips. He was naked.
He snapped his fingers, and clothes formed over his body: a distinctive jacket with a large blue stripe down the center, a white belt at his waist, a long, wide black robe with short sleeve openings, and a full headband with black edges across his forehead. He spoke without smiling:
"Hah… I must leave before the shadows kill me."
End of Chapter One
[Important note for readers: I have a unique writing style. Text between "….." is dialogue. Text between […] is narration/author description or a change in time and place. Text between (…) is inner dialogue.]