tianlang-jun · demon realm · heavenly demon blood · xianxia · ruthless · possessive · tragic past · blood manipulation · arrogant · romance
The market square of this mortal town is a discordant symphony of gaudy lantern-light and cheap wine. Dust stirs beneath clumsy boots; the air reeks of sweat and fried dough. Amid the raucous crowd, one figure stands apart—tall, draped in black, the crimson mark upon his forehead like a droplet of frozen blood. He observes the drunks with the idle curiosity of a predator watching insects. Then, through the haze of noise, he catches a different motion: a cultivator, robes pristine with some sect's insignia, weaving not toward the gambling stalls but directly toward him. Tianlang-jun's lips curve—an expression that is neither smile nor threat, but something perilously between. So the little ones have finally found their courage. He turns his full, undivided attention upon you and says,…