A Little First Love Shock for the Demon Lord - Chapter 8.1

Ying Ning’s outburst jolted Minglou awake from the nightmare spell.

Lowering his gaze to his childlike form and then scanning the surroundings, his eyes grew increasingly cold.

The deeper one is trapped in a nightmare spell, the more real the dream becomes. This kind of dream not only alters the dreamer’s appearance, but also makes them feel real pain and fear. Many victims of such

spells die from the torment of nightmares before their spiritual energy is fully drained.

These nightmares are often tied to the dreamer’s real experiences. The scene before him was the most miserable and humiliating chapter of Minglou’s life—one he never wanted to revisit.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Please don’t be mad,” Ying Ning said sincerely beside him.

Minglou glanced at her coldly. “How did you enter my dream?”

Ying Ning raised a hand and pointed to behind his ear. “There was a trail of black mist behind your ear. I touched it, and then I was here.”

Minglou found this strange too. Everyone’s fears are different, and no two people are ever pulled into the same nightmare unless someone forcibly intrudes using a specific spell—something Ying Ning clearly lacked the power to do.

After a moment of thought, Minglou formed a hypothesis.

His spiritual power had already merged deeply into Ying Ning’s soul. Because of this shared aura, the nightmare spell had mistaken her as part of him and dragged her into his dream.

That also explained the divine talisman from before—it had likewise recognized him as part of Ying Ning, allowing him to enter the sealed realm within it without harm.

While the dream and talisman made sense now, how his power had become so deeply intertwined with Ying Ning’s soul remained a mystery. Minglou couldn’t figure it out.

Just then, the hurried sound of approaching footsteps echoed from afar.

Hearing it, Minglou’s brows furrowed as he sharply turned toward the noise.

The nightmare wasn’t over. It was a group of agents sent by Chen Wuxiu, within the dream, coming to arrest him.

Clenching his jaw, Minglou reached up and broke the arrow lodged in his chest. Bl00d still gushed from the wound, and pain beaded his forehead with sweat.

Seeing him brace a hand against the ground, struggling to stand, Ying Ning said anxiously, “You’re badly hurt. You shouldn’t move.”

Minglou didn’t appreciate the concern. He brushed off her hand with a frown. “If I get caught here, I’ll die in this dream.”

He clutched the wound and tried to take a step—but before his foot even landed, his legs gave out and he collapsed.

Luckily, Ying Ning reacted swiftly and caught him.

Minglou glanced sideways at her hand gripping his shoulder.

Her hands were elegant—fair-skinned and slender, though calloused at the fingertips from manual labor.

Without hesitation, she lifted him—child-sized as he was—into her arms and bolted forward.

“What are you doing?!” Minglou shouted, shocked.

“You said you couldn’t get caught, right? You’re too hurt to run far, but I can carry you,” she replied, running as she spoke.

Minglou felt a surge of fury.

Being cradled in a woman’s arms while fleeing—where was his dignity as the Lord of the Demon Realm?!

He struggled, shouting, “Put me down this instant!”

Instead, Ying Ning held him tighter. “No.”

By now, a group of demon soldiers was hot on their heels.

In the midst of his struggle, Minglou caught a glimpse behind Yin Ning.

The soldiers’ faces, once blurry, were becoming clearer the more he focused on them.

Each one had the same face, sneering with cold contempt.

Chen Wuxiu.

Minglou instinctively shut his eyes. He knew his fear was feeding this dream—empowering it. The more terrified he felt, the more powerful and horrific it became.

Ying Ning raced through long corridors, weaving left and right, gradually widening the gap between them and the pursuers.

As she fled, one of the soldiers conjured a bow and aimed at her back.

The arrow sliced through the air with a deafening whistle.

Ying Ning’s body jolted, but she only quickened her pace.

“This can’t go on,” she panted. “Do you know this place well? We need to find somewhere to hide.”

Minglou kept his eyes closed and replied icily, “They’re only after me. Put me down and escape on your own.”

Despite his cold tone, Ying Ning answered gently, “You helped me. I won’t abandon you.”

This puzzled Minglou.

When had he ever helped this woman?

After a pause, he muttered, “There should be a hidden door near the staircase on the east side.”

Immediately, Ying Ning turned and ran eastward with all her strength.

Just before the soldiers arrived, she found the concealed door in the wall, pushed it open, and slipped inside with Minglou.

The door shut behind them, sealing them in total darkness.

Only the sound of their breathing lingered in the stillness.

A loud flurry of footsteps rushed past outside. When silence returned, Minglou ground his teeth and growled, “Can you put me down now?”

Ying Ning nodded and gently set him down.

As she bent over, her hair brushed his neck, leaving a lingering tickle.

Minglou rubbed the spot harshly until it hurt, finally banishing the itch. Then he began feeling along the wall. When his fingers found a groove, he pulled, releasing a flood of soft blue lights that illuminated the chamber.

The lights floated like stars in the night—mysterious and brilliant.

Ying Ning stared in awe. “Are those fireflies?”

Minglou replied flatly, “Leaves of the Night-Candle Tree. They float without wind and glow in darkness.”

“I’ve never seen leaves like that,” Ying Ning said, her eyes reflecting the lights.

Minglou glanced at her. Of course not. She’s a mortal—how could she have seen things from the Demon Realm? But he didn’t bother explaining.

He sat down cross-legged and attempted to break the nightmare spell with magic—but as he tried to gather his power, a metallic taste rose in his throat. He suddenly coughed up a mouthful of bl00d.

Ying Ning knelt beside him, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

He wiped his mouth, preparing to snap at her to mind her own business—but then he noticed something strange.

There was an arrow in her back.

Squinting, he took a closer look, and finally confirmed it—she had been shot.

A nameless rage surged in him. Even the pain in his chest seemed to intensify.

Grabbing her collar, he yanked her forward, furious. “Are you brainless? You were shot and didn’t say a word?!”

Ying Ning acted as if it were nothing. “Oh, that? It doesn’t hurt.”

Her casual tone made him even angrier. He snapped, “Nonsense! That’s a Yin-Iron arrow—it burns like fire upon touching flesh. How could it not hurt?!”

Seeing that he didn’t believe her, Ying Ning reached back and, before Minglou could stop her, yanked the arrow out.

“See? I’m fine.” She held it up.

Minglou stared at her, dumbfounded.

To prove it, she even jabbed her arm with the arrow. “See? No pain.”

He leaned closer and confirmed—there was no wound.

While he was close, Ying Ning took the chance to examine his injuries.

His wounds were still bleeding, some even exposing bone. Judging by his pale face, the pain was real.

She frowned. “Why do their arrows hurt you, but not me?”

Minglou shifted to rest against the cold wall and replied hoarsely, “Because you don’t believe any of this is real. To you, it’s just a dream—so it can’t hurt you.”

Ying Ning thought it over, then nodded in realization. “But you… you believed the dream. So the injuries became real, didn’t they?”

Minglou snorted. “Hmph. Not entirely dim, are you?”

Ying Ning smiled. “Then if you stop believing it’s real, we can get out of here?”

“Yes,” he replied coldly. But then he added irritably, “But this dream was born of my past trauma. Even my appearance has changed, meaning I’m deeply trapped. It’s not something I can undo just by saying it.”

After he spoke, Ying Ning fell silent, and the chamber grew oppressively quiet.

The stillness made Minglou uneasy.

He cleared his throat. “Why aren’t you talking?”

After a brief hesitation, Ying Ning asked, “Everything that happened in this dream… did it really happen to you?”

Annoyed by the question, Minglou replied gruffly, “So what if it did?”

Ying Ning looked at him for a moment, then gently patted the top of his head. “So, the Earth Deity went through so much as a child.”

Minglou stared at her, stunned. His chest tightened slightly.

But then his expression soured. “Did you just call me the Earth Deity?”

Ying Ning nodded with a smile.

Minglou nearly ground his teeth to dust. He glared. “Are you calling me earthy?!”

Caught off guard by the misunderstanding, Ying Ning quickly waved her hands. “No! My brother told me the Earth Deity is a kind spirit who drives away evil from the lands he protects. You’ve been driving away demons for me lately, so I thought maybe you were him.”

Even with the explanation, Minglou was fuming. Ignoring the pain, he stood up angrily. “The Earth Deity is a low-ranking god! How dare you compare him to me?!”

Assuming the dignity of the Demon Lord, he flicked his sleeves and crossed one hand behind his back, casting a cold gaze down at the kneeling Ying Ning.

“Listen carefully. I am the ruler of the Demon Realm. Those you call evil spirits…”

After he finished speaking, Ying Ning, who was squatting in front of him, looked up with a shocked expression.