The Demon Lord Wants a Vacation - Chapter 10: Visions of the Inner Demon

Content Warning: Animal suffering

Panic flooded Song Gui’s face. He appeared desperate to speak, but Duanmu Wuqiu had sealed his mouth shut. Mute and helpless, he could only shake his head with frantic force.

Duanmu Wuqiu’s cultivation far surpassed theirs—his seals were not easily undone.

Though the Beichen Sect possessed a wealth of knowledge and skill, unraveling such seals would require time. At the very least, seven days of careful preparation and array construction were needed to liberate Song Gui.

The Sect Master had just begun summoning several Law Body-level elders to convene in the rear mountains when Duanmu Wuqiu came crashing in, rendering all preparation moot.

At first, he had been calm.

With an expression of icy arrogance, he faced the Sect Master and declared, “This Lord merely delivered Song Gui back to Beichen Sect. His loyalty remains with Taoyuan Sect. Since you haven’t executed him, he shall continue to serve this Lord with his life.”

His bandit-like logic stunned the Sect Master into silence.

The Sect Master moved his lips, attempting to rebuke him.

But Duanmu Wuqiu had long since tired of righteous cultivators and their self-important rhetoric. He had no intention of engaging.

He cut the Sect Master off coldly: “This Lord is not here to negotiate—only to extend a courtesy, as you are Luo Xianyun’s shixiong.”

Assuming Song Gui would resist, Duanmu Wuqiu observed him thoughtfully, contemplating how best to coerce his cooperation—at least until he could extract the information he sought.

He had many such methods at his disposal.

His mind casually shuffled through several: the Heart-Devouring Thousand Ants, the Dismemberment by Five Horses, the Thousand Cuts, and the more direct option of soul extraction.

Just then, the Destruction System completed its restructuring.

Destruction System: [Based on the host’s psychological profile, behavioral data, and cognitive tendencies, the system has recalibrated its task configuration. To guarantee task completion, a punishment mechanism will now be implemented. Please recommit to fulfilling your assigned objectives.]

Duanmu Wuqiu naturally ignored it.

Luo Xianyun had already agreed to help remove the system. Duanmu Wuqiu, skilled at leveraging others’ strengths, placed his faith in Luo Xianyun and viewed the Destruction System as beneath notice.

As for punishment—he cared even less.

He had already endured every conceivable torment in the demonic path. He had survived them all at his weakest. Now, at the height of his power, his pain threshold was beyond comprehension. No punishment could faze him.

Even if heavenly lightning were to descend, he would feel it as no more than a tickle.

Destruction System: [Due to the host’s excessive goodwill toward Luo Xianyun, the “Assassinate Luo Xianyun” task cannot currently be executed. Task canceled.]

Duanmu Wuqiu arched an eyebrow, amused. Luo Xianyun truly was something else.

For so long, the system had hounded him to kill that man. And now, just upon Luo Xianyun’s emergence, the system cowered and backed down.

This only confirmed Duanmu Wuqiu’s suspicion: Luo Xianyun was the system’s fatal flaw.

Destruction System: [Task parameters revised. “Assassinate Luo Xianyun” has been replaced with “Eradicate Beichen Sect.” The host may kill every sect member, save for Luo Xianyun.]

[Luo Xianyun’s deep connection to the sect and his reverence for life ensure that, should Beichen Sect fall, he will sever ties with the host and seek vengeance.]

[If Luo Xianyun attempts to kill the host, then regardless of goodwill, the host will be forced to retaliate—thus completing the original “Assassinate Luo Xianyun” task by consequence.]

Duanmu Wuqiu sneered. System, do you take this Lord for a fool?

The system had laid its scheme bare—step by manipulative step—and expected him to follow through?

He might’ve once thought destroying Beichen Sect no great trouble.

But now? After hearing the system’s plan in full?

Absolutely not.

Destruction System: [The host will comply.]

[For exposing the system’s existence, punishment is required.]

Duanmu Wuqiu remained disdainful. Let it try. He was curious to see what punishment it thought would be effective.

Destruction System: [Penalties enacted: “Visions of Association” and “Future Knowledge.” Upon encountering key individuals, the host will experience future visions and the emotions tied to them.]

The future? Duanmu Wuqiu frowned.

Even the most gifted prophets of the cultivation world could only glean hints of the heavenly will—fragmented glimpses at best. The system’s claims sounded far-fetched.

Destruction System: [The system warned you: the world will betray you. All beings will curse your name and thirst for your blood. Even the smallest insect will long to poison you with its sting.]

[Since you refused to listen, now you shall see. Whether you accept the mission or not is your decision.]

Its words grated on Duanmu Wuqiu’s nerves—but his interest was piqued.

His envisioned future was simple: once he unified the demonic path, he would retreat to his valley and enjoy boundless sleep, undisturbed and content.

Should boredom strike, he would descend into the mortal world, rob bandits, and distribute their food to starving mountain children.

He would give nothing to adults—only to the children.

And if he sought further amusement, he would visit mortal emperors.

Though the cultivation world prohibited interference in mortal governance—no influencing sovereigns, prolonging their lives, or exposing cultivation to them—there were always demonic cultivators foolish enough to ignore these laws.

Inevitably, they would trespass into the royal court, intent on possession or manipulation.

But the moment they entered the palace, divine lightning would fall.

More destructive than any heavenly tribulation, it would obliterate them to ash.

For emperors, protected by the earth’s dragon veins and heaven’s mandate, were inviolate.

No one dared to break the ancient accords.

Two centuries ago, the so-called cultivators surrounding the emperor had been nothing more than charlatans.

But in the two hundred years that followed, heavenly tribulations ceased, and the dragon veins withered away.

Bold demonic cultivators soon discovered that the dragon veins no longer offered protection to the mortal sovereigns. Taking advantage, they infiltrated the courts and sowed chaos across the realm.

Duanmu Wuqiu had dealt with more than a few of these intruders.

Since his rise to power, the turmoil in the human world had begun to subside.

In recent decades, a semblance of peace returned—harvests grew plentiful, and the common folk wore fuller, healthier faces.

Duanmu Wuqiu had once imagined himself strolling into these imperial courts, instilling dread in mortal emperors before helping himself to their finest delicacies and luxuries, eating and drinking as he pleased.

This was the future Duanmu Wuqiu dreamed of.

The Destruction System was determined to prove such a future an impossibility.

It was a direct assault on Duanmu Wuqiu’s boundless confidence.

But the Demonic Sovereign believed with unwavering certainty that this future could be attained.

‘Let’s see what illusion you, a mere inner demon, can conjure to sway this Lord,’ Duanmu Wuqiu sneered.

He waited for the system’s reply, but none came.

The system, it seemed, had been cowed into silence.

He scoffed. ‘Coward.’

With his razor-sharp memory, Duanmu Wuqiu didn’t forget his original goal despite the interruption.

Having dismissed the system’s antics, he turned his gaze back to Song Gui, preparing to resume the interrogation on heavenly spiritual roots.

But the instant Song Gui entered his field of view, a storm of visions surged through Duanmu Wuqiu’s mind.

Flames raged across the sky.

These weren’t ordinary flames—they were heavenly fire, the kind only a Law Body or higher cultivator could conjure.

His entire valley was engulfed in the inferno, black smoke coiling into the heavens.

He saw himself douse the flames and rush into the valley, only to find it reduced to ruins.

The modest wooden hut was now a pile of cinders. The soft cushions on his wicker chair had been reduced to ash. The pond had evaporated, leaving not a single drop behind. A charred scent lingered in the air from the fat carp that had once called it home.

Smoldering embers still clung to the edges of the forest. In the distance, a single sparrow screamed in agony as it writhed in the flames.

Without hesitation, Duanmu Wuqiu reached into the fire as though impervious to pain, and gently scooped the sparrow into his palm.

Its legs twitched weakly. Its beady black eyes glimmered with one final longing glance at the sky—then dimmed forever.

After rummaging through the wreckage for what felt like an eternity, he found his dog.

A large yellow mongrel he had once picked up outside a ravaged village.

Back then, it had been lying helpless in the dirt, little more than skin and bone. Its fur had all but fallen out, its belly grotesquely swollen, its flesh festering with signs of plague. Likely for that reason, it had been spared by the invaders.

Duanmu Wuqiu, envisioning a home that needed guarding, had brought the animal back with him.

He forced spiritual pills down its throat and declared, “This Lord commands you to survive and become his watchdog.”

The dog had looked up at him, rubbing its filthy head against his sleeve.

“Impudent beast!” Duanmu Wuqiu had barked.

The dog had wagged its tail.

“Such brazen flattery,” he snorted. “Very well. Your first duty is to patrol this valley daily. Guard this Lord’s property. Prevent any thief from laying a finger on it. Perform well, and you shall be rewarded with elixirs and perhaps even cultivation.”

“From this day forth, your name shall be Wangcai.”

Duanmu Wuqiu had not formed any emotional attachment to Wangcai. He’d prepared fresh food for it and set an array that dispensed meals at regular intervals.

Then, occupied with the unruly demonic cultivators of Taoyuan Sect, he had spared the dog no further thought for half a year.

Now he found Wangcai’s corpse.

It lay atop his wicker chair, its body shielding the seat, burned to death with it.

That was all it had managed to protect.

Overwhelmed with fury, Duanmu Wuqiu burst into laughter.

He activated the array at the valley’s entrance, which could reveal all those who had passed through before the fire began.

He saw Song Gui sneak into the valley.

Less than five minutes later, the flames erupted.

Then, he watched as Song Gui fled in haste, bearing all the signs of a guilty conscience.

These were the images the Destruction System had shown him.

His own memories of constructing the valley intertwined with the visions, muddling his sense of reality.

The Destruction System reminded him coldly: [This world has never shown you mercy, host. You have no reason to show it any in return.]

Duanmu Wuqiu stood motionless in Beichen Sect’s entrance hall, his gaze fixed on Song Gui.

He no longer cared whether the visions were false, nor did he wish to determine truth from illusion.

He would not allow even the slightest chance for that vision to become reality.

Even if Luo Xianyun were to arrive this moment, Duanmu Wuqiu would neither see him nor hear his voice.

Kill Song Gui. Destroy Beichen Sect.

These were the only thoughts left in Duanmu Wuqiu’s mind.

—

Author’s Note:

Savior System: Didn’t I tell you? Kissing won’t save you now.