SCARLET BLOSSOMS
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- Parts 8
The wind rustling through the sleeves and the icy coldness of the Kunlun penetrated deep into his skin as his senses returned to him. He blinked his eyes as the blurriness faded, and clarity returned.
But still it took a moment for him to register what he saw.
It was a broken picture of ruin and destruction.
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--- Blurb They called him the Cold Immortal Lord-peerless in sword, unrivaled in cultivation, his heart frozen in eternal frost. All who gazed upon him saw only perfection carved from ice, a being who stood above the dust of the mortal world. On a blood-soaked battlefield, he picked up a boy-thin, ragged, and cursed by lineage. The child bore the taint of the Demon Clan, and so, instead of compassion, he received years of merciless torment at his master's hand. Discipline was cruelty, guidance was pain, and warmth was something he was never allowed to touch. Until one night. The immortal lord dreamed of his own death-his disciple standing above him, eyes burning scarlet, sword dripping with his master's blood. The dream was so vivid it shattered his Dao heart. From that moment on, the cruel master became... gentle. Cold scorn turned to quiet care, punishments softened into protection, and distance gave way to closeness. But affection, once twisted by hatred and longing, grows into something dangerous. The boy who once endured every cruelty in silence now clings to his master with a possessiveness sharper than any blade. If the world dares call him demon, then he shall become a demon for his lord alone. If destiny decrees blood and ruin, then he will tear fate apart with his own hands. What began as torment becomes obsession, what began as a dream becomes an unshakable bond. Between master and disciple, love and ruin walk the same path. ---
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝕺𝖋 𝕶𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖚𝖓 || 𝔜𝔦𝔷𝔥𝔞𝔫 ||
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Zhuo Yichen laid in Li Lun's arms, blood flowing down his trembling lips as his form rattled with his dying efforts to retain his breath. His arm was lying without strength on the ground. His slender fingers dotted with blood as they twitched. Thin strands of obsidian hair stuck to his pale cheeks, etching a picture unforgettable in Li Lun's blank mind.
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