Fuxi

Duan Nanyun, hailed as the number one Sword Immortal of Fuxi, was nothing more than a dying man with shattered meridians and a body broken beyond repair—except for his face—when he first climbed Fuxi Mountain three years ago. He dragged his crippled body by hand, crawling step by step up the tens of thousands of stairs to Fuxi Mountain. Fu Mingxia was sitting on those very steps, watching him linger on his last breath in the shadows cast by the trees. The young man’s face was as pale as snow, yet his features still held a breathtaking handsomeness. Blood stained his lips, adding a touch of demonic allure. His eyes, an unusual light shade, were not like an ordinary person’s. The first thing he said was to ask her, “What are you looking at?” Fu Mingxia: “Seeing how long you can crawl.” A faint smile touched his pale features. “Not much longer. I’m about to die.” The girl hopped down several steps and crouched before him, reaching out to wipe the blood from his lips. “You won’t die.” “…Why?” “Because this is Fuxi,” the girl smiled clearly, “The Number One Immortal Sect of the Righteous Path.” April’s Bright Vermilion Summer, South Wind Eases One’s Ire. Duan Nanyun was the name the Fuxi Sect Leader later gave him. Before that, he was a person without a name or surname. The world called him, Malevolent Will.