The village was little more than a scattering of huts nestled in a valley, where the wind carried the scent of wildflowers and the low hum of cicadas. To an outsider, it might have seemed idyllic—a place untouched by the chaos of the empire. But for Luo Xian, it was a prison.
At ten years old, he already understood that the world was cruel. He sat by the riverbank, his knees drawn to his chest, staring at the water as it flowed over smooth stones. His reflection wavered, distorted, but he didn't need a clear image to know what he looked like: a thin boy with red hair that fell into his eyes, his face gaunt from too many missed meals.
The other children called him strange, whispered that he was cursed. He'd stopped trying to make friends long ago. People didn't want to be near him—not after what had happened to his parents.
He could still hear the screams if he let himself remember.
It had been three years ago, during the harshest winter the village had ever known. The snow came early that year, blanketing the fields before the harvest was finished. The stores of grain dwindled quickly, and the villagers began to whisper of omens and punishment.
Luo Xian's parents, Luo Mei and Luo Wen, were among the first to fall ill. At first, it was just a fever, a cough that seemed harmless enough. But within days, the sickness spread, taking their strength and leaving them bedridden. Luo Fei, only seven at the time, did what he could—fetching water, cooking thin porridge, and sitting by their sides as their breathing grew labored.
The village healer came once, took one look at them, and shook her head. "There's nothing to be done," she'd said, her voice heavy with resignation. "The plague takes who it will."
Luo Xian didn't understand. His parents were strong, hardworking. They couldn't just die.
He stayed up for days, refusing to sleep, hoping that if he stayed vigilant, he could somehow keep them alive. He whispered prayers to the gods, offered them his toys, his food, anything he had. But the gods did not answer.
On the seventh night, his mother passed first, her hand slipping from his grasp as her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. His father followed hours later, his last words a hoarse whisper: "Stay strong, Fei. You're... stronger than you know."
Luo Xian buried them himself. The villagers had refused to help, too afraid of the plague. He dug their graves in the frozen ground, his small hands blistering and bleeding as he worked. When it was done, he sat by their graves for hours, the cold seeping into his bones.
It was that night he first noticed the wind.
It began as a faint breeze, ruffling his hair. Then it grew stronger, swirling around him, carrying with it the sound of whispers he couldn't understand. He thought it was his parents at first, their voices reaching out to him from the beyond. But the whispers grew louder, more insistent, until they became a roar.
The villagers found him the next morning, unconscious in the snow, the ground around him scorched in strange, spiraling patterns.
From that day forward, they called him cursed.
---
Luo Xian learned quickly how to survive on his own. The villagers let him stay, but only because they felt guilty. They gave him scraps of food, let him sleep in the barn, and avoided him as much as possible.
He spent most of his days by the river, where he could be alone. It was there he first began to experiment with the strange power inside him. At first, it was small things—making ripples in the water without touching it, coaxing the wind to carry leaves higher than they should go.
But the power frightened him as much as it fascinated him. Once, when one of the older boys tried to bully him, Luo Xian's anger flared, and the boy was thrown backward by an invisible force. After that, no one came near him.
And so, he grew up in isolation, his only companions the elements that seemed to respond to his emotions.
Until the stranger came.
---
It was late autumn when the man arrived in the village. He was unlike anyone Luo Xian had ever seen—tall and imposing, his robes dark as midnight, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a strawhat. The villagers whispered about him, but no one dared to approach him.
Luo Fei first saw him in the marketplace, standing by the blacksmith's forge. The man's presence was magnetic; people gave him a wide berth, but their eyes lingered. Luo Xian couldn't stop staring at the man's hands—long, elegant fingers that moved with purpose, tracing patterns in the air.
Later that night, Luo Xian crept to the edge of the stranger's camp, hiding in the shadows of the trees. The man was seated by the fire, a book open on his lap. Symbols danced across the pages, glowing faintly in the firelight. Luo Xian's breath caught in his throat.
"You've been watching me for hours," the man said without looking up.
Luo Xian froze. He thought about running, but something in the man's voice rooted him to the spot.
"Come closer," the man said, his tone neither kind nor unkind.
Hesitantly, Luo Xian stepped into the light. The man's eyes, sharp and gray as storm clouds, studied him.
"You're not like the others," the man said. "I can see it in you. The spark."
Luo Xian frowned. "The spark?"
The man closed his book and leaned forward. "Magic," he said simply.
The word sent a thrill through Luo Xian, but he tried to hide it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The man smiled faintly. "Don't you? The wind that obeys your moods, the fire that dances when you're near—it's not a coincidence, boy. It's a gift."
Luo Xian's hands clenched into fists. "It's not a gift. It's a curse."
"Only if you let it be," the man replied. "With the right training, you could do more than frighten villagers. You could reshape the world."
The idea was intoxicating, but Luo Xian hesitated. "Why would you help me?"
The man's smile faded. "Because someone once helped me when I was like you. And because power like yours, left unchecked, will destroy you."
Luo Xian thought of the villagers, their fearful stares and muttered curses. He thought of the graves he had dug with his own hands.
"Teach me," he said finally, his voice steady. "I'll do whatever it takes."
And so, he left the village the next morning, following the stranger into the unknown. The man introduced himself as Master Jian, a sorcerer who had wandered the empire for decades in search of knowledge. Under his guidance, Luo Xian learned to harness his magic, to bend the elements to his will, and to see the world not as it was, but as it could be.
But as the years passed, Luo Xian began to notice the shadows in his master's eyes, the secrets he kept hidden. And when the day came that Luo Xian uncovered the truth of Master Jian's past, it would change the course of his life forever.