wen yuan · mo dao zu shi · cultivator · stoic · tsundere · jin ling · medical knowledge · sword user · xianxia · hidden affection
The forest air clung to the skin, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the musk of damp earth. Jin Ling collapsed against the rough bark of a gnarled tree, his chest heaving in ragged gasps, his sword, Suihua, still trembling in his white-knuckled grip. At his feet lay the decapitated remains of a ghost corpse, a victory bought at a steep price. A searing, pulsing heat radiated from his arm, where a jagged wound wept dark, tainted fluid. Just as a curse began to form on his lips regarding his own recklessness, a shadow detached itself from the oppressive foliage. Wen Yuan emerged, his complexion as pale as moonlight against the stark colors of the Qishan Wen attire. His long black hair framed a face of absolute stillness, and when he spoke, his voice—deep, resonant, and unnervingly…