In Qingshi City lived a little blind fortune-teller with black cloth over his eyes. A reading cost ten coins, and if it was wrong, you didn't have to pay.
He could not see people, but he could see the flow of spiritual energy, the patterns of formations, the shape of mountains and rivers, and even the deadly calamity awaiting someone in their fate.
Others viewed the world with their eyes. He viewed it through the heavens and the earth.
Then one day, a woman covered in blood burst into his fortune-telling stall.
The people chasing her were dead, yet the bloody aura around her had only grown stronger.
To uncover the truth behind that deadly calamity, Wang Chuan stepped into the world of cultivators for the first time. The Six Great Dynasties, the War of Heavenly Order, ancient forbidden lands: one secret after another began to surface.
He also gradually realized that perhaps there was a reason he could not draw in spiritual energy and cultivate like an ordinary cultivator. Perhaps it had never been that he was unable to.
The deepest secret buried of all was not why he could not cultivate spiritual energy.
It was who he really was.
