The battlefield stretched across the rocky plains beneath the shadow of a dying volcano, where the Chengtian Continent's factions were locked in a struggle for power. The Celestial Dominion's forces, led by the ethereal warriors known as the Heavenly Swords, clashed fiercely with the serpentine warriors of The Jade Serpent Clan. At the center of the conflict, Xian Mei, the ruler of the Serpent Clan, commanded the battlefield with ruthless precision. However, unbeknownst to her, a far more secretive force moved among the combatants.

Zhang Xiaofan, a shadow of the battlefield, had been dispatched with his fellows by the Shadow Embrace to ensure that neither side gained the upper hand. His mission was simple: strike down key leaders, cause disarray, and vanish before his presence was known. The battle had raged on for hours, and Xiaofan had already dealt with several Celestial Swordsmen, leaving only the faintest traces of his passing.

As he observed from the shadows, his gaze fell upon a figure—a woman who stood apart from the chaos. She was a warrior of unmatched grace, a silhouette of fire and fury, moving with a fluidity that seemed almost supernatural. Her crimson hair flowed like a banner in the wind, her eyes glowing with the intensity of a storm. She was not from the Celestial Dominion, nor from The Jade Serpent Clan. She was an outsider, a rogue element whose presence on the battlefield confused Xiaofan.

The woman moved swiftly, her blade striking down enemies with brutal efficiency, yet there was something haunting about her—her movements were sharp, but her expression was full of pain. Xiaofan could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the desperation in her strikes, as if she were fighting not just for survival, but for something deeper.

Suddenly, she faltered.

In the chaos of the battle, a strike from one of the Celestial Swordsmen caught her off guard. She staggered, her balance thrown off, and in that moment, a powerful blast of energy sent her hurtling through the air. Time seemed to slow as Xiaofan's cold eyes locked onto her falling form. Without thinking, he moved.

In a blur of motion, he appeared at the edge of the battlefield, just in time to catch her before she crashed to the ground. His shadowy presence was like a dark veil over her, his arms catching her effortlessly. The impact sent a sharp pain through his body, but it was nothing compared to the vulnerability in her form. She was injured, blood staining her clothes, her breathing shallow and labored.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade into silence. The battle raged on, but Zhang Xiaofan's focus was entirely on the woman in his arms. Her fiery crimson gaze flickered as she tried to speak, but no words came. Her eyes locked with his, confusion and gratitude mixing in the brief exchange. She was a stranger, yet something in her expression stirred a quiet sense of responsibility within him.

Without a second thought, Xiaofan carried her away from the battlefield, finding a secluded spot near a stream in the wilderness. There, he gently laid her down, examining her injuries. Her ribs were bruised, her arm broken in several places, and her breath was shallow. Despite her strength, she had been on the verge of collapse when he intervened.

His usual detachment remained—he had saved countless people in his life, but this was different. There was something about her that made his cold, calculated heart pause. She was not one of the many he had helped or harmed in the name of the Shadow Embrace. She was not his enemy, nor was she a force he was meant to control. She was simply a person in need, and that, in itself, was enough for him to act.

Zhang Xiaofan didn't speak as he worked—his hands deftly binding her wounds, using his knowledge of healing herbs and magic to ease her pain. He wasn't concerned with who she was, only that she needed help. His magic woven into his healing was gentle, allowing her body to rest and heal naturally while the pain gradually dulled.

Hours passed before she stirred, her golden eyes fluttering open to meet his cold, emotionless gaze. She said nothing at first, her lips trembling as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes roamed over him—curious, grateful, but wary. He remained silent, watching her carefully, as if she were a delicate creature he had found and did not yet understand.

"You saved me..." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a strange warmth. The words didn't seem to belong to someone so cold, someone who had been so deeply entrenched in battle only moments ago. It was almost as if she were speaking to herself, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Xiaofan's voice was as cold as ever. "You were going to die. It was necessary."

The woman studied him for a moment, then nodded, though she didn't seem fully satisfied with his response. There was a deep sorrow in her eyes, but it was fleeting, like a shadow passing across the moon.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice softer now.

Zhang Xiaofan gave no answer. He didn't reveal his identity, as his way had always been to remain an enigma to those around him. Instead, he stood and turned away, his shadowy form blending with the darkness of the forest.

Before he could vanish completely, the woman—still weak but determined—sat up slowly, pain flickering across her face. "Thank you," she said, her voice full of quiet gratitude. "I don't know who you are, but I will remember this."

Xiaofan didn't answer. His figure, like a dark whisper, melted into the night. He left her there, alone, with her thoughts and the wounds he had healed.

Days passed, and the memory of the mysterious warrior lingered in Zhang Xiaofan's mind. 

Meanwhile, Ning Ying, the injured woman he had helped, was not so easily able to forget the encounter. She knew that she had felt something when he had saved her—a connection, a spark of warmth amidst the cold. She had never met anyone like him, someone who could be so detached yet so gentle in his own way. His actions had spoken louder than words, and in her heart, something stirred.

Ning Ying knew she could never forget that, even if his identity remained a mystery. And though she would never reveal herself to him, she had made a silent promise: to find him again, one day.

But for now, she left the encounter in the past, taking with her only the memory of his kindness and the faint hope that their paths might cross again in the future.

Six years had passed since the day Zhang Xiaofan saved the mysterious woman on the battlefield. In that decade, the Chengtian Continent had changed. The factions shifted like the tides, alliances forged and broken, battles won and lost. Yet, some constants remained. The Jade Serpent Clan, under the cunning leadership of Xian Mei, continued to thrive, asserting dominance in their region. Above them all, the shadow of Ning Ying, the Ancestor, loomed—a silent observer, an immortal who rarely interfered in affairs.

But Ning Ying was not untouched by curiosity. Over the years, whispers of a shadowy figure who moved against the tides of the world had reached her ears—a man who once belonged to the Shadow Embrace but now walked his own path. Rumors painted him as a cold and calculated wanderer, a figure who chose neither the light nor the dark but sought something in between. Intrigued, Ning Ying, ever watchful from her astral domain, began to wonder if this man might be more than the shadowy legend he had become. Unbeknownst to her, she had already crossed paths with him—ten years ago, in disguise of Yun Ying.