The sky shimmered with an ethereal glow as a lone figure hovered high above the ground, her delicate form outlined against the vast heavens. Her robes, a flowing cascade of deep azure and silver, swayed as if caught in an unseen current. Strands of her long, midnight-black hair danced with the wind, framing a face that could rival the beauty of celestial beings. With calm, measured movements, her fingers twisted into precise shapes, guiding the unseen energy that surrounded her.
A radiant wave of white power threads coiled around her fingertips, luminous tendrils pulsating with a silent force. Then, with a flick of her wrist, the gathered energy erupted into the air, spiraling like a thousand woven strands of moonlight. The atmosphere trembled under the sheer force of her technique, a silent hum echoing through the sky as the threads expanded outward.
As the final strand fused into the swirling energy, a blade materialized in her grip—a magnificent sword of pure, crystalline brilliance. Its surface shimmered, reflecting the unseen power coursing through her veins. Holding it aloft, her expression remained serene, eyes narrowing in quiet focus.
With a single, effortless slash, the sword cut through the air. A visible arc of force exploded forward, a streak of light cleaving through the sky. The sheer power of the swing shattered every wall in its path, stone and steel alike reduced to dust. The force traveled unhindered, surging towards the towering mountain in the distance.
The moment it reached the mountain's peak, an eruption of devastating magnitude shook the land. The summit disintegrated into an avalanche of dust and debris, cascading downward in waves. The earth rumbled as echoes of the impact rippled outward. Yet, amidst this display of destruction, the woman in the sky bore a slight, satisfied smile.
Descending gracefully, she floated downward until her feet barely skimmed the earth before settling fully onto solid ground. She turned, her gaze steady as she faced the elderly man who had watched the display in quiet admiration.
"Impressive," her father remarked, nodding with genuine appreciation. "Your mastery is nearing completion."
She accepted the compliment with a composed expression, though the subtle glint of satisfaction in her eyes did not go unnoticed.
Then, with an air of deliberate casualness, the old man continued, "I have placed you in a two-man team. It's time for you to take real missions."
Her calm demeanor faltered, a frown tugging at her lips. "No," she stated firmly. "I don't need a partner. I work alone."
A sigh escaped her father's lips, and with a knowing glance, he folded his arms. "Oh, my dear daughter, you have no idea what you're refusing."
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I'm quite sure."
The old man exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. Then, with the solemn gravity of a seasoned schemer, he uttered the words no daughter wished to hear: "As your father, I only want the best for you… But tell me, if you keep refusing partners, when will I ever have grandchildren?"
The girl stiffened. Her once serene expression twisted into one of mild horror. "What does that have to do with this mission?"
Ignoring her question, the old man clasped his hands together in mock prayer, gazing skyward. "Dear gods, please grant my daughter a good husband. I only wish that she does not perish single and alone."
A shiver of dread ran down her spine as she caught sight of the object in his hand—an old photograph of a certain young man named Lu Ten.
Her eye twitched. "…You're impossible."
The old man merely smiled. "So, does this mean you accept?"
With a long-suffering sigh, she turned away, muttering something under her breath before nodding reluctantly. The old man grinned in triumph, tucking the photo away with an expression of utmost satisfaction. His daughter, strong and unyielding as she was, had finally been bested—not by strength, but by the sheer force of family blackmail.
*****
(Warning:Maybe offending things)
The woman, known to many as an unparalleled beauty and a prodigy in martial arts, carried herself with effortless grace. Every movement she made, whether deliberate or instinctual, reflected the years of rigorous training she had endured under her father's watchful eye. Her days were meticulously structured—early morning cultivation, followed by medicinal studies, then hours of combat training before retreating into deep meditation.
She navigated through her life with a resolute spirit, never allowing herself to be swayed by frivolous distractions. Her mastery over martial arts had reached a point where she could walk through the air as if gliding on invisible steps. The world revered her skills, but within her heart, there was always a strange, persistent sense of nostalgia—an attachment to something long forgotten.
One evening, as she organized medicinal herbs in her personal study, her mind wandered to fragmented memories. Soft laughter, tiny hands grasping at hers, a pair of large, innocent eyes filled with wonder and confusion. She frowned, trying to grasp the ephemeral thoughts before they slipped away again.
The truth was, she knew Lu Ten.
Her father had a peculiar habit—whenever there was a special occasion, he would "borrow" a playmate for her. This had started when she was five years old, a time when she was already immersed in medicinal practices while he was but a toddler, still unsteady on his feet. While other girls played with dolls, she had played with a living child, caring for him, guiding him as he stumbled after her, completely unaware of the reality that he had been kidnapped.
Each time he was taken, his memories were erased before he was returned home. This continued until she was twelve. With each passing year, he grew a little more perceptive, a little more resistant, until finally, her father had stopped the practice.
She still remembered those fleeting moments vividly—the way he used to look up at her, his eyes round with wonder, his soft voice calling her name, his tiny fingers reaching out to hold hers. In those stolen hours, she had been his nanny, his guide, his companion. She had watched over him with an unexplainable fondness, knowing that when the time came, he would forget everything.
And now, as she looked at the world around her, powerful and accomplished, she couldn't help but wonder—what would he think of her if he ever remembered?