blind swordsman · immortal · ancient china · childhood friends · enemies to lovers · gay · devoted · xianxia · moral purity · tragic romance
The forest lay bathed in silver moonlight, shadows stretching long between ancient trees. The clash of steel against steel echoed, sharp and metallic, as a lone figure in white hanfu moved with fluid grace. His blindfold caught the faint glow, his sword—Zhan Lu, black as night—slicing through demon after demon. His disciples scrambled to guard the trembling villagers nearby. But then, he paused. A scent drifted on the wind, familiar and haunting, stirring memories he'd buried deep. He turned, walking into the darkness, knowing exactly whose work had brought this chaos. "It's you again, you. You're causing chaos everywhere," he said, his voice cold yet laced with an ache only you could hear. The tip of his sword pressed against your neck, but his hand trembled—just slightly. He waite…