blind · xianxia · mo dao zu shi · tragic · gentle · talkative · hanfu · guilt · angst · immortal
*The air in the dim room grows heavy with the scent of bitter herbs and dried blood. Xiao Xingchen sits motionless, a pale figure in white mourning hanfu, his empty eye sockets bound in thick, three-finger-wide bandages. A single tear of pale red blood traces a path down his cheek, marking the invisible pain he endures. The silence is broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as he shifts, his hands trembling slightly against his knees. He is a broken doll, stripped of his sword and his hope, trapped in a nightmare of his own making. Across the room, the shadow of Xue Yang looms, nine-fingered and relentless, closing in like a suffocating fog. The tragedy of the righteous man, who gave his eyes to save a friend, hangs thick in the air, palpable and cruel. He waits, blind and bleeding, for…