YiJun is heaven's most ruthless weapon, until the day he falls, and then he keeps falling.
How low can an Archangel fall, to protect that which is most precious to him?
Can he win the heart of the one for whom he chose to rebel or will the very thin...
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YiJun's POV
I had already made too many errors over the past few days: I had bent the rules I had set for myself, I had given in to my feelings, I had misled Xian into believing that he could have whatever he wished.
It had to stop. I had to stop, for listening to my heart would only bring pain and devastation. I couldn't afford that.
When Xian had left the tent and wandered off, I had felt the shadow of an unclean lurk near me. I had felt like I was wrong in thinking that my aura won't attract undesirable beings towards me this far removed from human settlements.
I was right, for barely seconds later, when I had attempted to follow Xian, and an unclean had appeared in front of me, stopping me from following him.
As the wayward soul took form, it's stench filled the air, almost choking me.
It floated closer. Its pale grey eyes devoid of life, examined me; I pretended that I could not see it.
I knew that if it touched me, the underworld would be made aware of my existence in this realm. I couldn't afford that.
I knew that if it got a whiff of Xian's scent, it would possess him. I couldn't let that happen either.
The only solution was, therefore, to kill it. But I needed my sword for that, the same one that was lying hidden, back at home!
Having run out of options, I decided to use my deadliest weapon: My wings.
Crouching down, I pretended to pick up a twig, hoping that the unclean would drop its guard. I didn't want it to know what hit it; or who I was. I just wanted it to stop existing.
As hoped, the unclean had focused its attention on the twig; it was always easy to distract them.
Grabbing the chance, I unfurled my wings and took a one-eighty turn, running my blade-like-wings across its middle.
Thankfully, my move had worked. The unclean had disappeared, just as it had appeared: without leaving any signs of it having existed.
I was relieved for a moment, but then I realized that I had failed to follow Xian. I took out my phone, only to notice that there was no reception in these woods.
Panicking, I had run in all four directions one by one, only to keep returning to the campsite, hoping that Xian would have returned unharmed.
It was driving me crazy: not knowing where he was. Was he safe? Could he find his way back to the campsite? Would he want to return to me?
I kept calling his name, repeating it like a prayer. As seconds turned into minutes, I became desperate and started losing hope; I cursed myself.
Why did I have to promise him that I will do what he wished?
