A hundred years ago, Qian Ye was the foremost disciple of the immortal sects. To put a stop to her junior brother Chang Yuan, who had brought disaster upon the mortal world, she personally led the masters of the various sects to confront him.
She and Chang Yuan had grown up together. In their youth, they had been full of spirit, descended the mountain together to uphold justice, and made grand promises. In the end, they took different paths: she became an immortal of the righteous path, while he became the lord of the demonic path.
She drove her sword into Chang Yuan’s heart, shattered his Daoist convictions, and imprisoned him beneath Mount Gu Jue for six hundred years. She never visited him once during that time.
Until Chang Yuan finally broke free from his torment and returned.
This time, he took Qian Ye hostage and brought her to the Demonic Palace.
The righteous sects were frantic, fearing Qian Ye would be abused, and hurriedly discussed a rescue plan.
But in the Demonic Palace, Chang Yuan knelt before Qian Ye, nearly crazed, wrapped his arms around her waist, and murmured, “Why didn’t you come see me even once in all these years?”
“Why are you so cruel to me, of all people?”
“I’m going to kill them all. Every last one.”
Qian Ye looked at him coldly, her gaze devoid of warmth.
In six hundred years, she had become the powerful leader of the righteous path, and she would let no one stand in the way of her position.
She also wanted to kill Chang Yuan, to stop him from wreaking havoc upon the world and damaging her authority.
Meeting her cold gaze, Chang Yuan’s eyes reddened. His trembling hand reached to cover her eyes. “They made you drink the Potion of Forgetfulness, didn’t they? Otherwise, you’d never treat me like this.”
Chang Yuan tried everything to undo the potion’s effects. But the moment it wore off, Qian Ye plunged her sword into his heart once more.
Her gaze remained cold, now with a hint of cruelty.
“Chang Yuan, I drank the Potion of Forgetfulness of my own free will,” she said calmly. “Whether I have feelings or not doesn’t matter. You have to die.”
“But without feelings, I can strike more cleanly.”
* The heroine is utterly ruthless and hungry for power.
* Pure angst for the hero. He’s like a puppy who won’t leave, no matter how many times he’s beaten.
* The heroine is not a virgin, while the hero is.
Theme: Anything is possible.
