Humble Mortals Don’t Need Love-Drunk Saviors

Li Luo was one of the humble mortals the gods swore to protect. She was the mountain villager who died during the divine maiden’s tribulation in the mortal world, tragically caught in a love triangle between the Demon Lord and the God of War. When the two men succumbed to jealousy and rage, their battle destroyed heaven and earth—taking her life with it. She was one of the millions burned alive in a sacrificial fire meant to save the realm, when a fairy and a Demon King’s absurd love spanned three lifetimes, ending in betrayal, slander, and catastrophic revenge. She was one of the people slaughtered when the Divine King, on the path of emotionless cultivation, killed his wife to prove his Dao, then regretted it, went mad trying to win her back, and finally fell into darkness. In his descent, he learned his white moonlight had moved on, and in his madness, he razed an entire city to the ground. Once. Twice. Thrice. Countless times. Li Luo watched again and again as these immortals spun themselves into tragic love triangles, love squares, love pentagons—obsessive, painful romances that ended with them going insane, slaughtering the innocent, and destroying city after city. Then they’d say something like, “For the sake of the mortal realm, I sacrificed myself for the greater good,” and just die then come back to life. Everyone would forgive each other, let bygones be bygones, live happily ever after, and embrace love and joy??? They died or lived as they pleased—but what about all those humble mortals who had died by their hands? She was sick of it. Might as well burn it all down. Li Luo lay on the scorched wasteland the gods had left behind, inhaling the stench of rotting corpses, and closed her eyes. Then, the moment she opened them again, she was back in the first life. She had to endure it all again from the beginning. It was simply— Intolerable. Unbearable.