Xie Ren was a mere ant, trampled into the mire by the great cultivation sects—yet he was also a merciless Yama outside the laws of heaven, wielding absolute dominion over the souls of men.
Everyone within the White Egret Medical Sect knew that Xie Ren, a lowly medicine slave, was a short-lived ghost destined to die before reaching his capping ceremony. Born with the deadened Ashen Meridians, he was cursed with a rare Kun-Yin (Omega) constitution, yet his body was thoroughly broken and ruined. To evade disaster, he spent his days bundled in a heavy fox-fur cloak, cradling a cold, ash-filled hand warmer, scraping by on the brink of death in a desolate medicinal valley.
But the world was blind.
This fragile vessel carried an ancient, secret heritage: the Ashen Soul Ferryman.
When he walked the earth, he was like a passing breeze, devoid of any spiritual aura. Yet, whenever the cosmic balance shattered and midnight mists sealed the mountains, a pitch-black straw raincoat would settle over his shoulders. A silver mask would conceal his face, and Soul-Breaker—the giant scythe that had severed the spirits of countless powerhouses—ingrained itself silently into his palm. Where the blade's edge gleamed, the flesh remained unblemished, but the soul was instantly annihilated.
Xie Ren had intended to guard this secret to his grave, quietly waiting for death.
But Lang Jingyi, the Young Master of the Azure Wolf Sword Sect—cloaked in a tempest of violent, scorching Qian-Yang (Alpha) pheromones—ferociously shattered his dead silence.
The world feared the Northern Frontier’s "Mad Tiger," Lang Jingyi, for his brutality and cruelty. Yet none knew that this prodigy, renowned from youth, was balanced precariously on the edge of Qi deviation, his defiance of heavenly talent causing a raging wildfire to surge within him. When his tribulation struck early, the young, maddened beast lost his sanity and stumbled into the forbidden valley. What he ran into, however, was an older, sickly youth who looked as though a gust of wind might scatter him to dust.
The violent, blazing Qian-Yang pheromones brutally tore through Xie Ren's defenses.
Yet, while the entire world drove the Mad Tiger into a frenzy, this frail man—who cradled a cold hand warmer and exuded the stillness of death—calmed the self-destructive storm in his sea of consciousness in a single instant.
"Don't be afraid... I won't hurt you."
The young beast, usually entirely untouchable, desperately reined in his savage possessiveness. His earlobes burned a bright crimson as he clumsily, yet with agonizing care, wrapped his burning embrace around that cold, broken body.
The Mad Tiger truly believed with all his heart that he was risking his life to protect a delicate, fading white flower.
He had no idea that the person he was pinning so fiercely against his chest was, in fact, the world’s most terrifying, lethal grim reaper.
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