Chapter 1: Prologue

Mid-February. Spring had only just begun.

After days of heavy clouds, sunlight broke through the morning sky. It slipped through the mist winding between the mountains and gradually spilled across the streets of Zhao’an Town, touching the doorstep of every home.

The thick snow piled on the eaves had begun to melt. Water dripped from the corners of the roofs and splashed onto the flagstones below.

A door creaked open. A young man in white stepped out of a small courtyard. As he turned to shut the door, he heard a woman inside cough weakly a few times.

“Yuqing, you don’t have to go to all this trouble when you can barely get around. My injuries aren’t serious. A couple of days’ rest and I’ll be fine…”

The young man’s lips curved into a faint smile. His voice was gentle, but there was no arguing with him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You stay here and rest. I’ll take these dried herbs and trade them for something to help replenish your blood and energy.”

“Yuqing… Yuqing!”

The woman called after him twice more, but the young man was set on going. He closed the courtyard gate behind him.

As he turned away, the wind lifted the long white ribbon tied over his eyes and secured at the back of his head. Sunlight caught the ribbon as it fluttered, tracing a graceful arc through the air.

He tapped the road ahead with a slender bamboo cane as he walked.

He was blind.

A few children ran past, laughing and clutching candied hawthorns. Their feet splashed through puddles, scattering drops of melting snow and stirring a cold gust of wind. A few white plum petals blew out of the courtyard and drifted down the street.

One landed in front of a tavern.

The young man seemed to sense it. He stopped.

“Smack!”

On the tavern’s raised platform stood a gray-robed old man with half-white hair and a pointed beard. Storyteller Old Li slapped his wooden clapper down. The room fell silent. He took up his fan, wagged his head, and launched into his tale.

“Since you’re all tired of hearing about young lovers, let’s talk about what’s been happening in the Cultivation Realm lately…”

The tavern’s first floor was packed with Zhao’an Town residents. Some sipped tea, others cracked melon seeds, and all of them leaned in to listen, bright-eyed and eager.

They’d come early for a story, crowding together until the whole room buzzed with good cheer.

They were ordinary people. They’d never met an Immortal Master, never seen a devil. The only way they could glimpse such things was through a storyteller’s words.

Old Li rolled up his sleeves and spun his tale with gusto.

“Now, half a month ago, the Devil Venerable got into another fight with Shan Jingfeng, Elder Ximu of the Fengyun Sect. What a battle it was—heaven and earth in chaos!”

“Thunder rumbled overhead. Their weapons clashed as they fought in the raging wind. Then the Devil Venerable turned the tables, conjured a pair of swords, and went straight for Shan Jingfeng—”

“Hold on.” Someone in the crowd raised a question. “Old Li, you’ve been telling us for years that the Devil Venerable and Shan Jingfeng keep fighting. But why are they fighting in the first place?”

That question jolted the regulars out of their listening daze.

“Yeah! Tell us!”

“There has to be a reason. Just because we’ve never seen it for ourselves doesn’t mean you can spin us any old story!”

At their insistence, Old Li’s expression shifted. Sweat beaded on his brow.

How was he supposed to know why they were fighting?

He’d made everything up except for the two men’s names and titles!

The crowd’s demands grew louder. Old Li’s mind raced, until inspiration struck. He lifted his hand and brought down the clapper again.

“Smack!”

The crack rang through the room, and everyone fell quiet.

Old Li drawled, “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“We do, we do! Don’t get angry. We won’t ask again.”

The townsfolk came early for a bit of entertainment. There weren’t many ways to pass the time in Zhao’an Town, and storytelling was cheap and fun.

Even if Old Li’s tales were made up, no one cared enough to press him. They listened just the same.

Besides, he’d spent most of his life in Zhao’an Town. When would he have seen a real battle? They’d only asked because they knew he was too proud to admit he’d been making things up. They’d meant to tease him, not drive him into giving up the story altogether.

Old Li huffed and straightened his collar, waving his fan as he continued. “Now, the Devil Venerable was said to be over nine feet tall, with eyes like copper bells and fangs in his mouth. His face was terrifying, his strength—”

“Excuse me.”

A cool, lilting voice came from the tavern entrance. It was soft, like a breeze passing through, yet it neatly interrupted Old Li mid-sentence.

Who was that?

The crowd stirred, irritated, and turned toward the door. They parted just enough for Old Li to see who had spoken.

A peerlessly handsome young man stood in the street outside the tavern.

A white ribbon two fingers wide covered his eyes. He wore plain white robes, and his long black hair was tied back with a ribbon, falling down his back like a waterfall. In his pale hand, he held a slender bamboo cane.

Even with a cheap herb basket on his back, he carried himself with unmistakable grace. The faint smile that had rested on his lips was gone, replaced by a slight tension. The gentle warmth about him had vanished. He seemed like a flower growing high on a snow-covered peak, beautiful and forbidding.

…

For a moment, no one dared disturb him—not even to complain about the interruption.

At last, the young man parted his lips.

“Excuse me. Do you happen to know the Devil Venerable’s name, Mr. Li?”

Old Li scowled. “Ye Yuqing, what do you need that for? Planning to take up a sword and fight the Devil Venerable yourself?”

His booming voice snapped the crowd out of their stupor. Only then did they realize that the man at the door was Ye Yuqing, the blind man from West Street—a harmless herb seller who couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Ha! He can barely lift a sword. He’d be lucky to make it down the road without getting hit by a carriage!” someone joked, cracking melon seeds.

“Go on, get out of here! What’s a blind fellow like you doing butting in? Go sell your herbs.”

The tavern erupted in laughter and jeers. Old Li seized the chance to change the subject. “All right, let’s get back to the story. Ignore him.”

The crowd turned back, and Old Li’s dramatic voice rose through the tavern once more.

Chu Wuyue wasn’t offended by their laughter.

Most of the people in Zhao’an Town were kind. They might tease him, but they often helped him out, and they meant no harm.

Mr. Li probably didn’t know the Devil Venerable’s name. With his love of showing off, if he did know it, he’d have talked about it for three days and three nights.

I shouldn’t have asked.

At the word “devil,” he’d lost control of his emotions.

Chu Wuyue adjusted the herb basket on his back. Without a word, he turned and felt his way down the steps, tapping the ground now and then with his bamboo cane.

Then he made his way into the crowded street.

He was used to living like this.

Three years ago, he’d been gravely injured. Before he woke, a kind local physician named Mu Qi had found him in the mountains and nursed him back to health.

But his eyes had been damaged beyond repair.

Chu Wuyue remembered nothing of his past: not how he’d been injured, nor who he was. He remembered only his name.

When Mu Qi had asked him about it, a voice deep inside him had warned: You mustn’t tell her your real name. Don’t let anyone find out who you are. Keep it hidden if you want to stay safe.

So Chu Wuyue had made up a name on the spot.

Ye Yuqing.

He’d lived in Zhao’an Town under that name for three years.

Kindhearted as she was, Mu Qi had seen how hard it was for a blind man to get around. She’d let him stay in her courtyard, worried he’d hurt himself if he left. Now and then, she let him sell dried herbs, and she often took him around town to help him learn the streets.

Their relationship was less like that of a physician and patient and more like that of a brother and sister.

But two days ago, that kind young woman had been abducted by members of the Devil Race. When a good Samaritan brought her back yesterday, she was already in terrible shape.

She’d lost so much blood that she still couldn’t get out of bed. When she woke that morning, she’d rasped gently, “Don’t hold a grudge. Maybe it was just my bad luck. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s all right. Don’t let it weigh on you.”

She hadn’t wanted him to go out for herbs, either. She’d worried he’d hurt himself, blind and unable to get around on his own.

Chu Wuyue’s lips tightened.

How could he not hold a grudge?

How could he not let it weigh on him?

He hadn’t even been able to take care of himself, much less protect someone he cared about. If someone hadn’t helped him yesterday, he never would have gotten Mu Qi back.

Most of the homes in Zhao’an Town had white plum trees in their yards. A breeze stirred, carrying the faint scent of plum blossoms through the damp, chilly air. The cold helped clear Chu Wuyue’s head.

No matter. The most important thing was to sell the herbs and use the money to buy food that would help Mu Qi recover. If he couldn’t find anything suitable, he could trade with the shopkeeper for some restorative medicine.

Mu Qi’s health came first.

Chu Wuyue was usually unhurried, whatever he was doing or wherever he was going.

But today, worrying about Mu Qi had him tapping his cane against the ground faster than usual. The crisp knock-knock drew the attention of three rowdy bullies just coming around the corner.

Their leader, Xue Bin, spotted Chu Wuyue feeling his way through the crowd. A mischievous idea came to mind.

“Hey, look. It’s Blind Ye.”

He shot a knowing look at the other two. They glanced at Chu Wuyue, understood at once, and exchanged grins.

Chu Wuyue was walking along the street when someone suddenly slammed into his shoulder, knocking him back two steps and nearly sending him sprawling.

Two more hands seized the herb basket from his back while he was off balance.

Chu Wuyue swung his cane. “Who’s there? Give me back my basket!”

His cane struck nothing but empty air. Confused, he lifted his head, unsure which way to face. The herbs inside were supposed to be sold so he could buy medicine for Mu Qi. He couldn’t afford to lose them.

The three bullies stood some distance away, snickering as they rifled through the basket. When they found nothing but dried herbs, they looked disappointed. Then they stood aside and watched Chu Wuyue with amused, expectant expressions.

One of them had an idea. He called out with feigned innocence, “Oh, Young Master Ye, your basket’s over here. Come get it!”

“Xue Bin?”

Chu Wuyue recognized the voice. Xue Bin was one of the few local hooligans in Zhao’an Town. He’d been making trouble for Chu Wuyue for years.

Finding the voice, Chu Wuyue tapped his cane as he approached. Xue Bin signaled to the other two, and the three spread out in different directions. As soon as Chu Wuyue drew near, Xue Bin tossed the basket to one of them and held out his hands with a teasingly innocent air.

“Sorry, Young Master Ye. You’re too late. It’s not with me anymore.”

Laughter came from another direction. “It’s over here! You’ve gone the wrong way. Come get it!”

Chu Wuyue hurried toward the voice, and the basket changed hands again.

After a few rounds, he understood. They were messing with him. He wasn’t going to get his basket back.

He was already anxious about Mu Qi, and the bullies had wasted so much of his time. Worry and anger overwhelmed him, wiping away his usual composure. Gripping his cane in both hands, he swung it as hard as he could toward Xue Bin.

He knew Xue Bin was their ringleader.

“Xue Bin! Give me back my basket!”

The cane cut through the air with a sharp whistle and cracked against Xue Bin’s raised arm. When Xue Bin rolled up his sleeve, a bright red welt had already appeared.

He stared at it in disbelief. Then pain caught up with him, and his expression twisted. He glared at Chu Wuyue and knocked the cane from his hands.

“Who wants that lousy basket?” Xue Bin grabbed Chu Wuyue by the collar and hauled him forward, leaning in close. “Ye Yuqing, you blind bastard! You actually dared hit me?!”

Chu Wuyue pressed his lips together. “You started it.”

A white ribbon covered his eyes, but it did nothing to hide his striking features or the natural chill in his bearing. Anger had brought a faint flush to his usually unreadable face, lending him an unexpected allure.

Chu Wuyue had lived in Zhao’an Town for three years. How could Xue Bin not know how handsome he was?

Until now, Xue Bin had only meant to torment the blind man. Up close, he realized Ye Yuqing was more tempting to him than the most celebrated courtesan in Yunhe City.

A cruel smile spread across Xue Bin’s face. He turned to the other two and ordered, “Come on. Drag him into the alley. I’ll teach him a proper lesson!”

Chu Wuyue sensed something different in Xue Bin’s voice.

Xue Bin usually bullied and teased him openly. He’d never taken him somewhere secluded before.

I can’t let this drag on.

Somehow, Chu Wuyue found the strength to wrench himself free and shove Xue Bin away. He stumbled backward until his hand hit a wall. Then he turned and ran, without time to find his cane.

He’d only taken a few steps when his foot caught on something. He pitched forward and cracked his head against a hard stone ledge.

Dizziness swept over him. Something wet ran down the spot above his left temple.

Probably blood.

Chu Wuyue gritted his teeth and used the wall to pull himself upright. The bullies had caught up with him easily. They surrounded him, laughing, as Xue Bin shoved his shoulder.

“Run, then! Go on, run! You can’t even see. What made you think you could get away?”

Chu Wuyue’s head spun. “Get away from me!”

He staggered backward as Xue Bin kept shoving him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Young Master Ye…”

One of the other bullies chimed in, and their ugly laughter rose around him.

Then, all at once, the noise stopped, as if something had closed around their throats and stolen their voices.

Dazed, Chu Wuyue didn’t notice. He touched the wound on his temple, then stumbled back a step.

Someone stood behind him. He backed straight into the broad, solid chest of a tall man.

A hand gently caught his shoulder. Another large palm steadied his drooping wrist and held it firmly.

The man behind him was close enough for Chu Wuyue to feel his steady breath and broad chest. His hand was strong, but his touch was so careful it seemed he was afraid of breaking something fragile.

Though blind, Chu Wuyue’s hearing was good. The man holding him was breathing harder, as if he were struggling to suppress some powerful emotion.

It was strange.

Then the man spoke. His low, husky voice was rich and pleasant, threaded with a trace of lingering alarm. The last word trembled slightly as he asked—

“…Are you all right?”

It was as though a form of address had been omitted from the beginning. What was it? Chu Wuyue couldn’t remember.

At that very moment, a clear chime sounded in his mind.

[Ding—Contact with the male lead confirmed. System energy activated. System starting…]

[System startup complete. Memory loss detected. Restoring host’s memories…]

[Memory Restoration Complete.]

…

In an instant, all of Chu Wuyue’s lost memories flashed before him like scenes from a dream.

Everything he’d forgotten came rushing back.

And he remembered the missing form of address.

Shizun.

…

“Shizun, are you all right?”