I Really Am A Villain

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“If there’s anything you’re curious about, you can ask me, especially about the Ancient Demon Road.”

“What exactly is the Ancient Demon Road?” Xu Zimo asked casually. Since the other had brought it up, he might as well inquire.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re a demon and you don’t even know what the Ancient Demon Road is?” Wang Lin said in surprise.

“You’re the one who told me to ask,” Xu Zimo replied lightly. “I usually spend my time cultivating, so I don’t pay much attention to things like that.”

“That’s basic knowledge,” interjected Xu Jiama. “Even if you don’t care, you should still know it. You’ve at least heard of our demon predecessor, the Malevolent Demon, haven’t you?”

Xu Zimo actually hadn’t, but he nodded anyway. If he showed ignorance, they might begin to question who he really was.

“Before the Malevolent Demon perished, he left behind his life’s inheritance,” Wang Lin explained. “He created the Ancient Demon Road, an ancient trial ground where later generations could venture in and seek his legacy.” He continued, “But the Malevolent Demon was truly the strongest of his era, the supreme power of our demonic age. His inheritance has existed for a thousand years, yet no one has ever fully obtained it. Those who enter the Ancient Demon Road may gain fragments of insight, scraps of power, but the true inheritance remains undiscovered. Everyone who’s gone in has come back empty-handed.”

“If he was one of our demon ancestors, why didn’t he simply pass on his inheritance directly? Why make it so complicated?” Xu Zimo asked.

“The Ancient Demon Race has always lived by the law of the jungle,” Wang Lin said seriously. “How could a strong one’s legacy fall into the hands of the unworthy? Only those who prove themselves deserve it. That’s how everyone can accept the outcome.”

Xu Zimo nodded slightly in agreement. This method did indeed produce elites, the kind of people who relied on their own strength. That was the true way of kingship.

“I still have something to take care of in the academy. Let’s meet tomorrow,” Xu Zimo said.

“We’ll be waiting for you in the Victory Tower, don’t stand us up,” Wang Lin warned. “You need five people to enter the Ancient Demon Road.”

“Don’t worry,” Xu Zimo replied with a small nod.

After parting ways with the four, he stepped through the great gates of the Demon Academy.

Inside, the architecture was equally magnificent.

Every hall gleamed with a black-and-gold sheen, each one accented with other colors for flair.

Black rivers of infernal energy flowed through the academy grounds, their thick, tangible aura seeping into the air.

Even just stepping inside, Xu Zimo could feel how dense the demonic qi was here.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself, continuing his stroll.

After wandering through several smaller paths, he came upon what appeared to be the academy’s library.

If he wanted to learn about the Ancient Demon Race’s history and the major events of recent years, this was the best place to start.

Compared to the intimidating grandeur outside, the library had a more refined and scholarly air.

At the entrance stood a statue of a demon dressed in scholarly robes, his expression calm and dignified.

The interior architecture shifted from dark hues to softer tones of blue and white.

The library wasn’t just a single hall, it twisted and turned endlessly, its corridors stretching as far as the eye could see, with at least dozens of connected halls.

At the entrance sat a disheveled old man who appeared to be the librarian.

He lounged in a chair, feet propped on the table before him, snoring loudly.

Just as Xu Zimo was about to enter, the old man stirred awake.

“The library’s closed for the next few days,” he said lazily.

His face was gaunt, and he spoke with something stuck between his teeth, picking at it idly as he talked.

“I’d just like to take a look around,” Xu Zimo said calmly. “I won’t disturb anyone.”

“I said it’s closed,” the old man replied, shaking his head.

But then he paused, frowning slightly as if sensing something.

After a moment of silence, he looked Xu Zimo up and down curiously, then said slowly, “You may go in.”

Xu Zimo was surprised at the sudden change of heart, but he didn’t question it.

He stepped into the library, where most of the hall doors were tightly shut, except for one, labeled Hall of Hidden Light.

He entered that one.

Soft sunlight streamed through the windows, the dust motes floating lazily in the golden light.

Rows upon rows of bookshelves stood neatly aligned, their shadows falling across the floor like patterned lattices.

The place was utterly quiet, only the faint rustle of turning pages could be heard.

Looking up, Xu Zimo saw an old man seated by a bookshelf, reading.

There was something oddly familiar about him.

Then it struck him, the statue at the entrance. The old man looked exactly like it.

“What kind of book are you looking for, young master?” the elder asked with a kind smile as he rose to his feet.

“Were you the one who told the man outside to let me in?” Xu Zimo asked in return.

“If you already know, why ask?” the old man replied, still smiling.

“What should I call you?” Xu Zimo asked.

“They call me the Demon Sage,” the man said softly. “But a very long time ago, some used to call me Little Zhe. You may call me that.”

“Little Zhe?” Xu Zimo repeated.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this elder somehow knew him. But frustratingly, he himself remembered nothing.

“I want to know what’s happened in the Ancient Demon Realm over the past few years,” Xu Zimo said.

The elder smiled faintly and handed him a book.

“In this book,” he said, “you’ll find everything you wish to know.”

Xu Zimo was mildly surprised. The man clearly knew his purpose for coming here.

He accepted the book, sensing no hostility from the elder, only deep respect.

“There’s a table over here,” the elder said, leading him through several rows of shelves to a stone table that gave off a faint fragrance, soothing to the mind.

Xu Zimo sat down and began to read.

The book described the modern Ancient Demon Realm in great detail.

There was talk of the Thirty-Six Million Caves and Seventy-Two Million Mountains, a saying that reflected the tangled, complex network of demonic powers that filled the realm.

Although Hellfire Asura oversaw the greater order, he rarely interfered directly. The actual ruler of the Ancient Demon Race was a being known as the Demon Master.

The Heavenly Dao had long ago allocated the Godfiend Abyss Heaven to the Ancient Demons as their territory, a way to contain them and maintain cosmic balance.

Yet even so, the Ancient Demons feared drawing too much attention. They ruled the Godfiend Abyss Heaven from the shadows, seldom revealing their true forms.

Xu Zimo turned page after page, finding the contents increasingly fascinating.

All the while, the old man quietly stood nearby.

From time to time, he poured Xu Zimo a cup of steaming tea, its aroma strange yet soothing, bringing clarity to the mind with a single sip.

Whenever it cooled, the old man replaced it with a fresh cup, his manner almost that of a respectful servant.

Unnoticed, time slipped by until night fell.

The old man lit an oil lamp, its flickering flame filling the hall with warm light.

“This Demon of Doom fellow sure had some backbone,” Xu Zimo remarked now and then as he read.

The old man simply smiled, listening in silence.