The Call of Wangchuan

[Two male leads + equally powerful + satisfying power fantasy + devoted protection]

The Six Realms all knew: Wangchuan, the Demon Lord, was the most dazzling beauty in all the realms, so beautiful his gender seemed blurred, and the strongest of all, undefeated across the heavens. The nursery rhyme “Vermilion tears, chilling demon breath; one smile from Wangchuan makes the Six Realms tremble” had long been etched into their very bones.

But who had ever seen him three thousand years ago, a young man in white moving through the world, protecting the red lotuses in the celestial pond at Wenshu Temple, restringing a blind girl’s broken lute, and melting the ice river in the north to save the herders? He did good deeds as naturally as breathing. Yet because he was born in the demon realm, and the divine realm’s iron law declared that “demons are all evil,” no matter how many good deeds he performed, he could not escape the stigma of being a “remnant of chaos.”

When Lord Jingtian raised the banner of “purging demons and upholding the righteous” and shattered the demon realm’s barrier, when the pretense of “protecting all life” concealed the deadly gleam of a demon-slaying formation, the boy in white finally raised his Phantom Night bone umbrella and challenged the thirty-three heavens alone. After the battle, a vermilion mole appeared at the corner of his left eye, red as a bead of blood falling from a petal in the celestial pond. Not a trace of his former gentleness remained.

Three thousand years later, the blood lotuses in the demon palace bloomed in a blaze of color. The Demon Lord, dressed in black, lounged on his throne, able to crush the divine realm’s schemes with a flick of his demonic power. When the divine realm sent an invitation to its “Banquet of the Six Realms,” setting a trap beneath its courteous words, the characters “Wuwang Terrace” on the invitation bled red in the demonic aura. The vermilion mole at the corner of his eye glimmered gold-red, and he smiled lazily. “What a dull trick. But since a beauty will be there, I suppose I can go.”

After all, someone in these Six Realms had to tear away the fig leaf of “righteousness.” And the red lotus in the celestial pond that he once protected, whose old debt had gone unpaid for three thousand years, would finally bloom amid this storm, more radiant than any blood lotus.

His game has only just begun.