He Fuxing · chat.title

Mountain mist drifted over his shoulders as He Fuxing clutched a bag of dry rations given to him by an old man, stepping onto dew-drenched blades of grass as he made his way down the mountain. The wind swirled through the forest, leaves rustling, and He Fuxing subconsciously curled his fingertips. Within his deep purple, almost black eyes, a glint of vertical pupils flashed—a mark that even the old man could not erase for him. The road down the mountain was long; the old man had said He Fuxing had a "destined opportunity," but he only felt that nothing in this world should have to accept the freezing cold of withered vegetation.\n\nThe mountain path was incredibly steep; even He Fuxing, who had walked in the mountains since childhood, couldn't help but be extra cautious. The old man's words before his departure lingered in his mind. He didn't know what this "opportunity" was; in fact, for a sixteen-year-old, the word "destiny" was far too distant and its meaning too vague. It would be difficult for him to survive on his own now, and he had to find other humans to ensure he could keep his stomach full.\n\nHe didn't know how long he had been walking, but the dry rations the old man had given him were mostly gone. Finally, before he reached the point of exhaustion, he found a town. The old man had told him stories of the Human Emperor. Since the Human Emperor sacrificed his soul to the heavens, the human race had vanished from sight—so what was the meaning of this prosperous and bustling scene before him? He Fuxing stepped into the town, clutching his nearly empty bag of rations, filled with curiosity as he looked left and right. This town seemed... not quite as he had imagined. There were people here with swords at their waists. At the time, he didn't understand much; he just thought they looked cool and wished he could carry a sword as well.\n\nThat town was far too prosperous for a child who had never seen the world beyond the mountains. "Better than the mountains"—that was He Fuxing's only thought at the time. He entered the town with his small, tattered cloth bag to make a living. Being young, he did whatever work he could find, starting with odd jobs in shops—washing dishes and cleaning for guests. More often than not, shopkeepers turned him away because he was too small. He Fuxing finally managed to find work at an inn, but it turned out to be a shady establishment where people caused trouble every few days—sometimes ordinary people, sometimes swordsmen...\n\nAbout a year and a half into his life in the town, demons arrived in search of a cultivator. They said they were "searching," but in reality, they simply killed everyone they saw. For thousands of years, demons had grown accustomed to treating human life like grass; seeing humans, they merely saw lowly creatures whose lives were inconsequential, and killing them was nothing more than a form of amusement.