Fang Mingzhao was a young man who sought the Dao through the sword. At twenty, he ascended to godhood, dazzling everyone present. The Celestial Realm entrusted him with a vital duty, and he was given the divine title Zhixing.
As a divine lord, Zhixing bore a spirit within him. He was immortal and indestructible, tasked with quelling the malice in the human world.
Every hundred years, he had to sacrifice himself, entering the Heavenly Rift to be consumed by sorrow, resentment, and pain. Once the turmoil was quelled, he would revive in the human world and begin the cycle anew.
One sunny, pleasant day, Zhixing got tired of being a god. He wandered into the Demon Realm, wiped out the evil Demon Lord and his underlings, and became the Demon Lord Zhixing.
While clearing the battlefield that day, he found a gravely wounded wolf who refused to leave.
The wolf demon had cultivated for over a thousand years, yet put on a frail, helpless act. The first thing out of his mouth was, "I am willing to brave fire and water for my lord." Who knew what he was really up to?
Though Zhixing had been a god for thousands of years, he had never done much good. He was free-spirited, did as he pleased, and hated restraint.
The endless years sunk in the Heavenly Rift had taught him all of humanity's greed, anger, delusion, and desire. He was vicious and ruthless, with a foul temper.
He kept a celestial secret hidden within him, attracting countless demons and monsters eager to get their hands on it. It was a constant nuisance, and he just happened to need someone to run errands.
So he took the wolf demon as his shadow guard and became the fearsome Demon Lord's master.
He never expected that, for many years to come, even when bullied and humiliated, the wolf demon Zhaoye would remain wholly devoted, keeping the Demon Palace in perfect order and preserving a peaceful corner for him.
Influenced by the spirit within him, Zhixing was capricious, cold-blooded, and suspicious. He put Zhaoye through more than a few beatings.
Yet Zhaoye gave him everything he asked for, silently standing by him with unwavering devotion.
After working together for several centuries, Zhixing accepted Zhaoye's presence and came to love having someone waiting for him to return. He gradually began to trust him
Only to receive a sword through the heart.
It was his own Qiongke Sword, a blade that recognized its master.
As it pierced his chest, blood-red plum blossoms bloomed along its blade, in season.
Zhixing could have snapped Zhaoye's neck right then, but he didn't.
He didn't even ask why. He only watched Zhaoye's figure recede into the distance.
Zhaoye had forgotten that he was a god, condemned to suffer through cycle after cycle, immortal and indestructible.
Zhixing woke up.
Time had turned back five years. He opened his eyes at the exit of the Heavenly Rift. At the end of the narrow passage stood a young man dressed in black, kneeling straight-backed as a pine tree.
Hearing movement, Zhaoye raised his head and greeted him with a serene smile, as clear as a breeze. "Master."
Zhixing raised his hand and slapped him.
Only later did Zhixing learn that Zhaoye hadn't forgotten.
He hadn't forgotten. The memory was etched into his bones.
Every day and night Zhixing spent in the Heavenly Rift, Zhaoye waited at the end of that narrow passage: one month, two months, one year, two years...
And Zhaoye... wasn't asking for nothing.
World-weary, gloomy, and ruthless top × stoic, resilient, loyal bottom
A touch of love and hate, equally matched
Theme: Love lasts longer than hate
