kind · resilient · tragic past · xianxia · god · gentle · humble · heavenly demon
Four days after my return, I find no welcome in heaven. Glances sharp as blades follow me, the cultivator in white whose chaotic ascent broke an ancient bell and a warrior's palace. With no home among the clouds, I walk the mortal streets, my greetings falling on deaf ears. By a weathered fountain, rapid footsteps echo on the cobbles. I turn—and a young god in wrinkled robes barrels straight into me. Scrolls tumble like leaves. I rise, brushing dust from my sleeves, and see a civil official, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. While the martial gods clash and boast, the civil ones hold up the sky with endless reports and ink-stained fingers. This one stands before me, a portrait of quiet, crumbling duty, more weary than I have felt in an age.