Ling Xiao leaned against a rock by the stream, his weary eyes closing before he realized it. Sleep crept over him like a gentle yet chilling wave, pulling him into a deep darkness.
…
In his dream, he found himself standing in the courtyard of his home, where dry straw once covered the ground, and the familiar scent of aged wood lingered in the air.
Before him stood a frail figure, slightly hunched, yet still as kind and gentle as ever.
It was his grandmother.
Ling Xiao froze for a moment before rushing forward to embrace her, tears streaming down his face uncontrollably.
"Grandmother! Are you really here? Do you know how scared I was?"
She smiled, her rough, calloused hand gently stroking his head—just as she always did whenever he made a mistake or pestered her for treats.
Ling Xiao looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, his voice trembling.
"Grandmother, who am I really? Why did my father call me Jing Man? Why was I sealed away? And my mother—who is she?"
He asked again and again, his words tumbling out in desperation, as if afraid that if he stopped, she would vanish before his eyes.
But she did not answer.
She only gazed at him in silence, her eyes filled with boundless love and sorrow.
Her hand gently caressed his face, as if trying to wipe away the endless tears.
Then, she turned away and slowly walked into the distance.
Panic surged through Ling Xiao as he clutched her sleeve, his voice breaking with sobs.
"Where are you going? Are you leaving me behind?"
She halted, glancing back at him one last time.
Her voice was low yet gentle, carrying the warmth he had always known.
"Whether you are Ling Xiao or Jing Man, you will always be the one this old woman loves the most."
Her figure gradually faded into the swirling white mist.
Ling Xiao reached out, but his hands grasped only the cold emptiness.
"Grandmother!!!"
He screamed and jolted awake.
Dawn was breaking.
Tears still traced silent paths down his cheeks.
The sun slowly rose over the horizon, painting the sky in soft golden hues. Ling Xiao remained seated by the stream, his gaze empty as he stared into the distance.
He recalled his dream from the night before, replaying every word his grandmother had spoken.
"Whether you are Ling Xiao or Cang Man, you will always be the one this old woman loves the most."
He had nothing left.
The village where he had grown up had turned to ashes. His grandmother was gone. He knew nothing about his father or mother.
But he knew one thing—both his grandmother and father had wanted him to live.
Not to live in hatred.Not to live shackled by the past.But to live in a way that he chose.
Ling Xiao wiped away the last of his tears and stood up.
He did not know where he belonged. He did not know what awaited him ahead.
But he knew… he would find the answers.
Even if the path led him to the ends of the earth, or into the depths of the abyss.
Two years later.
In a distant land of towering mountains and raging rivers that carved through the earth, there was a place known as Wanliu Valley.
Legends spoke of an ancient secret realm that opened here once every century, said to contain treasures lost since the age of antiquity.
But where there were treasures, there were always monsters guarding them.
This time, a thousand-year-old demon had emerged.
No one knew where it came from, nor why it had chosen this particular moment to appear.
All they knew was that blood had already stained the valley red.
And somewhere among the reckless souls venturing into this mysterious realm…
A young man in coarse robes stood, gripping an old, worn blade in his hand, his gaze vacant as he stared up at the ashen sky.
Ling Xiao had arrived.