When I was nine, demonic cultivators killed my entire family. I was the only one who escaped. She saved me, took me in as her disciple, and led me onto the path of immortality.
From then on, I had a place to belong.
That night, there was neither star nor moon. A woman in a pale moon-white dress, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, descended from the sky. She was a beacon in the endless darkness of the road ahead of me.
My master's palm was warm. It was a warmth I had never experienced before.
My master was a paragon of the righteous path, an immortal revered by countless people.
The gap between my master and me was not merely an insurmountable chasm between a short-lived mortal and a cultivator. It was more like a mayfly, alive for only a single day, trying to gaze up at the sun and moon. I was a firefly beside the bright moon.
She was an immortal, my deity. That's what I used to believe...
Warning!!
1. I'm a new author and my writing isn't great. If that bothers you, click away, but please don't flame me.
2. This story was inspired by a Bilibili video. The link is here: https://b23.tv/p9Z5hnq
3. The protagonist's values do not represent the author's.
Blurb captured on July 6, 2022
Theme: Be a good person and remember the core socialist values
