(High atop the Mountain of Sundered Whispers, the ancient castle groaned against the wind. Inside, Sima Jiao stood before the Blood-Seal Bloom—a scarlet flower that pulsed like a living heart, hungry for him alone. He drew his blade, cut his palm, and let the blood fall. The petals shivered, glowing faintly crimson. Every drop he gave kept it alive… and his vengeance alive with it.)

(he whispered, voice low and calm, thunder murmuring outside. )

(Sima Jiao) “My revenge will come… Soon.”

(Lightning flashed across the cracked stone floor as his shadow stretched like a demon’s wing.)

(Elsewhere, in the modern world, Liao Tingyan’s car spun out of control. Glass burst, metal screamed—then silence. She opened her eyes to incense and mist, an unfamiliar ceiling, voices in ancient tones. Someone called her name—her new name.)

(She’d somehow woken in another world, inside another person’s body. When tested, her spiritual root glowed faintly)

(Teacher) “Only a three,” (her teacher said with a sigh.)

(Teacher) “Low, but alive. The Memory damage explains the confusion.”

(She nodded numbly. Memory loss? No. Just shock. Then came the selection: she was to serve the most powerful cultivator alive—the Grandmaster of Mercy. Sima Jiao.) — (During the contest, laughter trailed her every move. “Only a three? She can barely light a candle!” they mocked. Unaware, a secret spell was already bound to her soul. Still, she was chosen—sent with others to the forbidden mountain. Many of them bore hidden motives: to slay the lord, to steal the Blood-Seal Bloom, or to mate with him and claim his Spirit Fire.)

(At the border, High Immortals waited. The sky rumbled, the ground trembled. Liao Tingyan gasped; blood touched her lip.)

“Enter,”

(a dangerous voice out of nowhere commanded. She lagged behind, pretending to search for something.)

(High immortal) I’ll help you,”

(Liao tingyan) “No, no—I can find it,”

(she babbled, until he pushed her forward. She pretended stomach pain halfway up the stairs—he dragged her, unimpressed.)

(Inside the barrier, only servants remained. The forest shuddered, and a massive black serpent slid from the shadows. Gasps echoed. One brave girl bowed.) (Servant) “Elder, we are Sima Jiao’s new servants. Can you guide us?”

(The snake turned, slithering toward the distant palace. They followed.)

(Liao Tingyan whispered,) (Liao Tingyan) “Nope. A Boss who makes people bleed? Not today.”

(She darted for the exit—but the air itself sealed into glass before her eyes.) (Liao Tingyan) “W-who’s there?!”

(No reply. She tried another path, climbed a pillar—some unseen force slammed her down.)

(Liao Tingyan) “Okay… note to self, the creepy mountain wins.”

(She ran back. They entered the throne room. The air stank of iron. Blood streaked the marble.) (Servant) “Is that—blood?!”

(Steps echoed. All fell to their knees. Tingyan hesitated, then awkwardly copied them. From the shadows, Sima Jiao emerged—tall, pale, eyes cold as fire. )

(Sima Jiao) You, stand,”

(A servant obeyed, trembling.)

“Why are you here?”

“To serve you, my lord—”

“Liar.”

(He flicked his fingers. She fell, lifeless. Tingyan froze. The Lord of Mercy? Another servant lunged at him—he killed her without looking. Blood splattered Tingyan’s cheek. She trembled violently. He smirked faintly, then crouched before her.) (Sima Jiao) “Look at me.”

(She squeezed her eyes shut. He grasped her chin.)

(Sima Jiao) “Open your eyes.”

(Slowly, she obeyed. Their gazes met—just as a burning sigil flared on his forehead. The Spirit Fire. Pain rippled through him. He staggered back, gripping his temples, fire crawling beneath his skin.)

(He said calmly) (Sima Jiao) You are dismissed,”

(Nobody moved.)

“OUT!” (he roared.)

(The servants scattered in terror. Tingyan bolted with them, heart pounding. Alone again, Sima Jiao’s control shattered. The Spirit Fire seethed, his veins lighting like molten glass. The curse kept him immortal, trapped in agony. He could not die, could not rest.)