Wangui Returns to His Clan

I can see the threads of everyone's destiny, and I can also see them breaking. For this reason, the sect gave me a position: bad omen forecaster. "Clock in to work" every day and check on the bloody disaster for fellow students. They didn't know that every time those threads were plucked, a gash would open in my body and light golden blood would ooze out. There would even be "afterimages" of the deceased forced into my mind, forcing me to experience their despair. Until that day, the entire secret realm was polluted and knotted by the ink-black thread of fate. The senior sister who believed in the way of heaven looked at my cracked hands coldly and said, "Your power itself is pollution." And I found that the only way to untie these "dead knots" is to weave myself in - to become part of the knot.