Let’s Never Meet Again

When Master brought me back to the sect, the entire place erupted in cheers and celebration-everyone, that is, except for Senior Brother.

He was convinced I was a demon and was determined to strike me down with his sword.

Weeping, I clung to Senior Brother’s leg, using every ounce of my being to swear through my tears and snot that I wasn’t a demon.

Yet his face remained dark, completely unmoved by my display.

He pulled out the Demon-identifying Mirror and shoved it right in my face.

While my heart hammered with anxiety, I took the opportunity to admire my own beauty in the reflection.

“Senior Brother, where would you ever find a demon as pretty as me?”

He let out a cold sneer, sheathed his sword, and turned away, leaving me with nothing but the sight of his haughty back.

“Your imagination is certainly prettier than your face.”