After Switching Bodies with the Villainous Demon Lord - Chapter 3

Duan Ze stood on the steps at the doorway, looking down at the man from above.

The other guy was dressed in black, wrapped up tight from head to toe, kneeling silently in a shadowy corner, practically blending into the night. He was probably one of Xiao Wuchen’s subordinates.

Sensing someone coming out of the room, the subordinate’s body tensed slightly, and he lowered his head even more, his voice low and muffled.

“This subordinate failed the task and lost him.”

Duan Ze raised a hand to stroke his chin. That line came out of nowhere—he had no idea how to respond. If he slipped up and broke character, wouldn’t he be zapped by lightning again?

So he didn’t reply, instead secretly guessing how Xiao Wuchen would react in this situation.

The kneeling subordinate waited in silence. As the seconds dragged on, the air around them seemed to grow thinner under the pressure.

He had followed the lord for hundreds of years and still couldn’t figure out what the man was thinking. All he knew was—whether it was a failed mission or someone who simply got on his nerves—none of them ever ended up well.

Even the emotions lord showed couldn’t be trusted. One moment he’d be joking and chatting, and the next, the person across from him would be lying there—head and body in two separate pieces. He did everything by mood, never giving a damn about sentiment.

Even seniors older than him, if they made a mistake, would still get thrown into the Hanging Point Prison for punishment.

Just when the subordinate’s breathing was about to stop from the tension, Duan Ze finally lowered his hand, tapped his thigh lazily, and sauntered over, squatting down in front of him. The hem of his freshly changed robes pooled on the floor. Duan Ze tilted his head and looked up, meeting a pair of blood-red eyes.

He froze for a split second. Not wanting to expose his ignorance, he asked with feigned interest, “So? How’d you lose him?”

As Duan Ze asked, his hand hidden in his sleeve clenched tight.

There were very few people in the three realms with crimson eyes, but Xiao Wuchen just happened to have one under his command.

He originally thought this was just some random nameless subordinate—but turns out, it was Mo Han, the Demon Race’s number one mo nu.

Mo nu—demon slaves—were basically slaves of the Demon Race. But in the novel, Mo Han was the god of war in the Demon Realm, with insanely high cultivation and unwavering loyalty to Xiao Wuchen. That pair of crimson eyes had haunted countless nightmares.

He’d followed Xiao Wuchen from a very early time. Probably knew him better than anyone. Duan Ze knew he’d have to tread even more carefully.

Mo Han felt a chill run through his entire body as his lord suddenly leaned in. His eyes quivered slightly, but he didn’t notice anything wrong. He lowered his gaze and avoided eye contact. “This subordinate saw him stay unmoving in the gauze tent for a long while. Disguised as a disciple of Cangyu Sect to go switch out his spirit fruit, but found that the person inside had already been replaced with a substitute talisman.”

Substitute talisman?

He was being followed?

So Xiao Wuchen had planned this move for a while now.

Duan Ze’s gaze sharpened. After quickly processing what Mo Han said, he asked, “Does Cangyu Sect know?”

Honestly, he already had a guess. Xie Qingyu showing up in the woods likely meant he’d found something.

“Yeah.” Mo Han nodded. He had been watching the people of Cangyu Sect. Although they’d handled things discreetly, there was still a trace of nervousness and panic that leaked through.

Without waiting for more questions, Mo Han continued, “I followed them into the forest near Cangyu Sect, but even until just now, I couldn’t find him.”

“Cangyu Sect didn’t find him either?” That shouldn’t be. He made quite a ruckus—how could they not notice?

“That’s right.”

Seeing Mo Han’s dead serious expression, Duan Ze nodded and stood up.

Given what he knew of Mo Han, the man would never lie to Xiao Wuchen. If Cangyu Sect hadn’t found his body, that meant—for now—he was still safe.

Once the report ended, the still-half-kneeling shadow guard cupped his hands and said, “This subordinate will go receive punishment.”

After saying that, Mo Han stood and stepped back a few paces, about to vanish into the darkness.

After being interrupted like that, Duan Ze lost all interest in wandering around. Seeing Mo Han act like he was going to his death, he suddenly remembered that Xiao Wuchen had specially set up a place called Hanging Point Prison for punishment. That place was full of howls day and night, thick with the stench of blood. Even in the Demon Realm, where bloodshed was the norm, it was something people feared.

Anyone who went in rarely came out the same—if they even came out at all.

There’s no way Duan Ze could just stand by and watch someone walk in.

He quickly raised a hand and called out, “No need.”

Mo Han paused, a rare flicker of surprise appearing in his usually calm eyes. Duan Ze met his gaze, keeping his expression unchanged while his heart screamed oh crap.

This was bad.

Tense all over, he gritted his teeth and added, “You didn’t do that badly. Just dock a bit of your pay, then go back and rest early.”

Watching Mo Han’s eyes grow wider and wider, Duan Ze desperately focused all his attention upward—waiting.

But after a while… nothing. The night sky was calm and peaceful.

“Hm?” Duan Ze furrowed his brow, glanced at the still-stunned Mo Han, then looked up at the sky again. No sign of lightning.

A thought flickered across his mind.

To test it, Duan Ze waved a hand at him and almost kindly said, “Sleep well.”

“Th-thank you, lord, for your mercy.” Mo Han jolted, feeling like the lord’s moods were getting more and more impossible to predict—like a dream. He bowed deeply, turned, and left again. On his way out, his left foot tripped over his right, and he nearly faceplanted.

Soon, the courtyard was quiet again. Duan Ze was the only one left.

And from start to finish—not a single bolt of lightning.

The tension that had been holding him up suddenly gave way, and Duan Ze plopped right down onto the stone steps. The cold marble sent a chill through him, and the light from the door behind him stretched his shadow long across the floor.

He rested his face on one hand, elbow on his knee, and let his gaze float vaguely toward the courtyard’s grove of premium Mulberry Hazel Forest. Around the forest, a ring of intricate talisman markings continuously fed spiritual energy into the trees.

These trees didn’t bloom or bear fruit. Only their leaves glowed faintly at night. They needed spiritual energy to survive.

But demon cultivators used demonic energy to cultivate. There wasn’t a single wisp of spiritual energy in the Demon Realm. Yet somehow, Xiao Wuchen managed to keep a whole grove of premium Mulberry Hazels alive here. Guy really loved making things difficult for himself.

Duan Ze didn’t even like Mulberry Hazels. After a few glances, a memory surfaced—one that wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Back then, he’d only been transmigrated here for about a year. Still didn’t understand how dangerous the world could be. He was bored in the sect and had already finished reading all the storybooks, so he left to find new ones.

The best storybook authors were often regular mortals with rich emotions. Cultivators, once they started cultivating, unconsciously suppressed their feelings, so they rarely wrote anything that could resonate deeply with others.

But mortals didn’t live long, and were easily wiped out by disasters. Sometimes while writing, the author would just… disappear. Like the one Duan Ze had been waiting months for—delayed again. He asked the bookshop owner, only to find out they hadn’t heard from that author in a while.

Driven by desperate curiosity, Duan Ze paid a hefty price for the writer’s address and headed there.

But before he even got close, thick smoke started billowing from the direction he was headed. His heart sank. He channeled his spiritual power and rushed forward.

When he arrived, he saw villagers with bags on their backs, seemingly ready to leave. Behind them, their village was pretty much burned to the ground.

Luckily, he’d met the writer once before. Using his divine sense, he quickly located them.

The writer was surprised to see him too. “How did you know I was here?”

Duan Ze had a lot he wanted to say, but for the sake of staying in character, he held back and quietly replied, “The continuation you promised… still hasn’t been delivered.”

The person looked sheepish and quickly pulled a thick manuscript from their bag, handing it over. “Our village has been planning to relocate for months. I won’t be continuing the story anymore. I brought this just for memory’s sake, but since fate brought us together, I’ll give it to you. Whether you bring it to the bookshop is up to you.”

After saying that, the writer left with the rest of the village.

Duan Ze looked down at that thick stack of paper, filled with wild excitement. He was the first person to read it! To enjoy it properly, he’d even picked a quiet, scenic spot—under a beautiful Mulberry Hazel Tree.

And the moment he turned to the first page—

BOOM.

A bolt of lightning came crashing down like it had been waiting for him. In an instant, dozens of pages turned to ash and scattered into the wind.

He hadn’t even read a single word.

Not one word!!!

Forget the physical pain—the emotional trauma was the real killer.

Duan Ze just stood there, dumbfounded. Of course he knew his character would never be caught reading storybooks, so he had even checked the area for outsiders before opening it. Still got struck by lightning.

Not willing to give up, he used his divine sense to scan again—only to lock eyes with a freshly-sentient Mulberry Hazel Tree standing not far away.

They stared at each other in awkward silence.

After that, Duan Ze never read storybooks in public again, and avoided Mulberry Hazel Trees like the plague.

Yet here he was, forty-some years later, facing an entire grove of them.

He and Xiao Wuchen really were born to clash.

⸻

Author’s Note:

Duan Ze (super pissed), “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”