His mother left him a jade pendant and three instructions:
"Xuan, possessing a treasure is a crime. Don't let anyone find out."
"If one day you become strong enough, come find me in the Divine Realm."
"Remember: do not call me a god."
Lin Xuan took her words to heart.
When he was seventeen, the three incense sticks in front of the ancestral hall had burned down. He chose to leave.
For the next thousand years, he never called himself a prodigy, never joined a sect, and never currried favor with the powerful. He killed those who deserved to die, protected those who needed protection, and cultivated the path he was meant to cultivate.
Someone once asked him why he refused to call himself a god.
Lin Xuan wiped the blood from his sword and glanced at the girl beside him, who was tilting her head and smiling at him. He replied calmly:
"Gods live high above the heavens. They can't see the suffering of the mortal world. I came from the mortal world, and I can't forget it."
