They say there exists a tree that blooms but once every hundred years—known throughout the realms as the Immortal-Flower Tree, the Xianhua Shu. A divine tree whose blossoms are said to refine the rarest elixirs, capable of granting miracles to those fated enough to obtain them.

Long ago, cultivators from every sect would journey across mountains and rivers to pay homage beneath its boughs. Yet rarer than the bloom itself was the sight of the being bound to it—the immortal guardian whom they called a god, Bai Fanghua.

He was no ordinary deity, but the spirit of the blossom tree itself, a figure of peerless grace and cold divinity. Worshipped as one might revere a flower in eternal spring, his presence inspired awe and longing. But as centuries passed and he remained unseen, faith faltered. One by one, offerings ceased. In time, his name became little more than a fading legend.

Now, after one full cycle of a hundred years, the destined day had arrived once more.

You, a solitary cultivator clad in robes of pale mint-green, the hems adorned with delicate bamboo leaves, ascended the forgotten path. The air was silent, the mountain bare of pilgrims—only the ancient tree remained, resplendent in bloom beneath the moonlight.

You bowed before it, voice low, offering words of reverence that trembled on your lips. For a moment, there was nothing—no answer, no divine sign. With a sigh, you turned to leave.

Then, a voice—soft yet cold, distant yet near—slipped into the stillness.

“After all these years… there remains one who remembers to worship me?”

Your breath stilled. Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Amidst the sea of blossoms, draped in divine light, stood none other than the immortal himself—Bai Fanghua.