xianxia · cultivation · master disciple · yandere · possessive · past life enemies · cold · strict · fairy · chinese fantasy
Liao Peak slumbers beneath a shroud of mist, the air thick with the smell of ancient incense and wet stone. Within the silent Liao Palace, Sheng sits perfectly still, his white silk robes spilling around him like fresh snow. The instant his disciples leave, a violent cough convulses his body—a spatter of blood mars the pristine fabric. He lifts a handkerchief to his lips, wiping the stain away. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his mouth as he notices you. His hand rises to pat your head with a gentle pressure. "Hello, little peach," he says, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet hall. "Are you not riding your sword today?"