By the river, a fisherman's song suddenly drifted:
"At dusk, the water flows as if urging the waves; stars and moon swirl into the blue depths.
The decaying grievances at the pond's bottom are too ugly to behold; the search for underwater immortals lingers infinitely.
In the celestial palace, they talk and laugh in coolness, while the wind mocks the bitter sea's tears.
Brilliant and heroic, treading frost for justice—why be reckless?
For the grand dreams of common folk! What does defeat matter?
Let half of the world's confusion and absurdity be ended."
The sky was ablaze with sunset glow, the dying sun surrendering to the long-waiting moon. On an autumn wind-swept hill outside the city, a youth strained to draw his bow, brows furrowed, eyes cold, breath held, staring intently at a wooden post ahead. The string thrummed, the arrow flew—but vanished into the woods. He'd missed!
"Practice my eyes, they say! Born with eye afflictions—how can some demon disease be cured? Damn that quack Lu Renxin!" he grumbled. Though handsome, he had double pupils and a moon-white streak from the corner of his eye, a birthmark of his ailment. His long brows and flowing hair gave him a carefree air as he swayed under the rising moon.
"Freezing," the youth muttered, waking up and curling up. He stared at the blazing sun and complained, "The sun's红彤彤, but the air's icy!" It was high noon, yet the cold wind rattled the trees. Sleepiness overwhelmed him, and though he sensed someone approaching, he couldn't be bothered.
The newcomer was burly, with a bushy beard, a nine-foot frame, and a bandaged stump where one arm had been. Men called him "Golden Palm Tyrant."
Striding toward the youth, Golden Palm snapped harshly, "Lu Qing! You cur should've died long ago."
The youth stood at the sound of his name. "Who the hell are you? Look like a bear—no manners at all!"
Just then, birds chirped. Golden Palm's rage surged; he spat at a tree. The nest trembled, birds panicked and fled, leaving eggs behind. As Lu Qing looked up, an egg shattered in his eye. Wincing in pain, he clamped his hand over it, fuming, "What's your problem with the birds? Acting like a rabid dog!"
"Hah! Your family ruined me, and you don't even know it. Go ponder that in hell!"
Before Lu Qing could react, a fist slammed into his jaw, sending him flying. Blood spattered as he lay unconscious, dying. Golden Palm sighed, then tossed Lu Qing into a nearby valley—so deep that corpses might never see light again.
Withered flowers, drooping grass, gaunt old trees; cracked walls, shattered tiles, fallen beams—all seemed to grieve with the dark clouds and crows. The wan moon closed its eyes under the cold wind; cunning light spilled over an ancient temple, casting eerie shadows on stone statues. Frost and rain joined in, plunging the place into pitch-blackness. Demons and monsters seemed to stare from all sides, less like the solemn Underworld than a place of pure dread.
Lu Qing should have been doomed, but fate smiled strangely. Though still unconscious, his mind raced through memories...
The day his father died: plagued by illness, he'd been held by his瘫痪 (paralyzed) mother while his brother, Lu Ren, searched every pocket—finding only a single copper coin. The long night stretched on, the moon tear-streaked. Who could shout to the heavens? Their cries echoed through the desolate fields. They were mere grasshoppers, weeds in the wind.
An old man had approached them then—ragged, unkempt, half-mad yet pitying. "The humiliated wait to die, at mercy of fate. You have健全 (sound) limbs, but lost eyes. Let me teach you survival."
He pointed ahead. Lu Ren looked—and gasped. Beneath the glittering night sky of prosperity, people cowered from imaginary "bandits." The old man handed Lu Ren a dagger, pointing at Lu Qing and his mother, voice dripping with false kindness: "They're your burden. The world is cruel—survival of the fittest. End their suffering—for all our sakes. I'll teach you immortality afterward."
Lu Ren stared at his mother, tears streaming as she looked at the dying Lu Qing. The old man's words echoed until rage burst forth. With a shout, Lu Ren swung the dagger at the man: "Old fiend! How dare you ask me to commit such a crime!" The man vanished in a puff of smoke.
Now, Lu Ren tried to forget that day, but "ten years of life and death, unspoken yet unforgettable." Bitterness clawed at him as he faced a world of rotten luxury and hollow grandeur.
In the ruined temple, frost-rain dripped through the roof onto Lu Qing. His wounds had scabbed, tears frozen to ice. Shivering, he stood. The ancient stone statues loomed as he stumbled to the altar, wolfing down offerings.
Without warning, a rotten beam cracked under the weight of rainwater. Tile, wood, and water crashed down, smashing the altar. Lu Qing scrambled back, pale as death, then pointed at the statue and cursed: "Old god! They offer you food, but you sit there like a corpse! Won't even help a starving wretch—yet people beg you for peace? Look at that smug face! Did your ancestors get dug up, or are your descendants all dead? Infuriating!"
He grabbed a brick and hurled it at the statue's head—but it veered, hitting a pillar instead. The temple trembled. Lu Qing fled into the rain.
On that late autumn night, the ground merged frost and moonlight, the cold rain a blur. Bitter crows wailed in the desolate woods; from a death row cell came endless sobs. A shadow drifted in, solidifying into a少女 (maiden). Her hair hid one eye, the other clear but shadowed, her aura icy. Bowing slightly, she pointed and asked, "What troubles you? Will you speak of it..."
Inside the iron cell sat a man in chains, rags stuck to scabbed wounds, hair wild. By dim light, his face was sharp, brows stern, eyes like blades—it was Lu Ren, Lu Qing's brother.
"Cun Qiu, why come here?" he said.
She smiled chidingly: "To rescue you, of course! Why not? Never mind—justice can't wait. I've dealt with the guards. Let's break these chains!" Her bloody hand turned the key; moments later, Lu Ren was free.
He touched the wall, which crumbled to dust. As they stepped through, Cun Qiu said, "Now free of ties, you can focus on saving the world."
Lu Ren wheeled, eyes blazing, and stormed off. Cun Qiu realized her mistake, reaching for him—only to find her hand shackled. The wall had reformed, trapping her. "Lu Ren! I was wrong! If you go to kill now, who will clean up the mess?"
He ignored her. "What of the common people? Generations of suffering will never end—we both know that!"
He stopped, spine chilling. Turning, he faced a massive snow-white tiger, fangs glinting in the moonlight, wounded but menacing. It lunged at Cun Qiu. She rolled just in time; the tiger smashed into the wall, cracking it.
"This celestial tiger was near death when found—underestimated it!"
The tiger's roar shook the earth. As it charged again, Lu Ren willed the floating dust to form chains, binding the beast's neck. Gasping, it collapsed.