Prologue, a piece of black cloth

This is the flesh and blood of the young lady

... ...

Is this how one is to die

In front of the cart, a blind youth tightly gripped the iron rod in his hand, a black cloth covering his eyes, obscuring not only his vision but also the sky above.

The Black Knight! The thugs, shot down by crossbow bolts, lay in pools of blood, lamenting. The reinforcements rode on horseback, clad in black armor that reflected the moonlight above, emanating a dim, soul-devouring glow. Each cavalryman held a hard crossbow, a weapon permitted only within the military, and the previous rapid fire of light crossbows had already killed most of the assassins

The Celestial Vein, where 'Celestial' refers to the heavens and 'Vein' signifies the bloodline

Throughout his life, he indeed has not accomplished anything of significance, aside from helping elderly women cross the street, giving up his seat on the bus, maintaining harmonious relations with neighbors, and assisting classmates in cheating on exams. Fan Shen is, in the traditional sense, a useless good man. His parents passed away long ago, leaving him to spend his days alone in the hospital, awaiting the arrival of the day when his life will come to an end.

In the midst of the black cavalry's escort, there sat a middle-aged man in a carriage, his complexion pale, with sparse patches of beard on his chin. He looked at the young servant carrying a child in the arena, nodded slightly, and then gently clapped his hands.

The person shook his head and tugged at the black cloth strip on his face

At dawn, the battlefield had been thoroughly cleaned, and the carriage slowly made its way along the stone-paved road to the east. Behind the carriage, a squad of black cavalry accompanied a pale middle-aged man seated in a wheelchair, creating a rather eerie scene. The carriage jolted over the stones, waking the infant who lay on the soft silk cushion.

Fan Shen was startled, as everything before him felt too real, leaving him momentarily at a loss. Suddenly, he thought of the hands on his face. Could it be that his hands could move? Could it be that his illness had truly healed? What, then, was the reality of everything before him? Was this merely a dream? After waking from the dream, would he still be that helpless person lying on the hospital bed, unable to move, waiting for death?

If that is truly the case, it would be better not to wake up from this dream; at least my hands can move and my eyes can blink. He thought sadly, touching his damp face with his hand. When he withdrew his hand, he found it covered in blood. It turned out that the wet liquid that had dripped from the corner of his eye was actually blood splattered on his face from an unknown source. Fan Shen stared blankly at his hands, his heart screaming in disbelief, this is definitely not my hand! When he withdrew his hand, he found it covered in blood. It turned out that the wet liquid that had dripped from the corner of his eye was actually blood splattered on his face from an unknown source. Fan Shen stared blankly at his hands, his heart screaming in disbelief, this is definitely not my hand! In front of him were a pair of exquisitely tender and adorable little hands, stained with blood, looking as enchanting as white lotuses blooming in a battlefield, absolutely not the hands that an adult should possess!

"I need you to provide me with an explanation regarding this matter," said the person with a black cloth covering his eyes in a cold tone, his voice devoid of any tremor or emotion

... ...

"Where are you taking this child?" said the middle-aged man in the wheelchair coldly. "You are blind; do you expect the young master to wander the world with you?"

A sharp sound rang out, and the mage's incantation abruptly ceased, his head soaring high into the air, blood pouring like rain

The middle-aged man thought for a moment and nodded with a smile

The middle-aged man smiled as he pushed the wheelchair around to the back of the blind boy, extending his hands to lift the child from the bamboo basket. Looking at the child's exquisitely beautiful little face, he sighed, "He really looks just like his mother, so beautiful"

The middle-aged man in the carriage shook his head: "The wizards coming from the west never understand that, in the presence of true power, spells are as ineffective as the pen of the Prime Minister."

His voice suddenly dropped very low, ensuring that his subordinates could not hear the words he uttered afterwards: "... ... the child of the Celestial Vein."

In the distance, his subordinates stood silently. Suddenly, upon hearing the adult's joyful laughter, their expressions remained unchanged, yet deep within, they were profoundly shocked, unsure of the significance of this child.

The term "Heaven's Bloodline" refers to the bloodline left behind by the heavens among humanity. According to legends in this world, every few hundred years, a descendant of this heavenly bloodline will begin to awaken.

Suddenly, while in a daze, Fan Shen saw a scene that left him utterly shocked through the few bamboo slats. More than a dozen men in black, exuding an aura of lethal intent, were wielding sharp weapons and striking towards him! In that moment, he could not discern whether this was a dream or a strange experience before death; purely out of instinct, he shrank his head and raised his hands to shield his face. Any ordinary person would likely make the same ostrich-like choice.

This bloodline may represent an overwhelming power that cannot be resisted, exemplified by the great general from the distant nation of Nasgu, who, at a critical moment when his country was on the brink of annihilation by barbarian forces, used his personal valor and combat prowess to assassinate most members of the barbarian's primitive council. Some individuals with celestial bloodlines also exhibit extraordinary talents in the arts or wisdom, such as the great mage Bor, who passed away three hundred years ago, and his wife, the playwright Fubo. Naturally, no one can prove that they were favored by heaven as suffering beings, leaving behind their bloodlines. However, these individuals brought peace and many other gifts to the world. Moreover, all celestial bloodline bearers eventually vanished without a trace; no individual or even nation could detect any sign of their presence. They appeared suddenly and disappeared just as abruptly, leaving behind only some obscure records and nothing that could substantiate their existence.

I do not trust your master

The expression of tenderness on the face of the middle-aged man in the wheelchair appeared and then quickly faded: "I will naturally provide you with an explanation, and I must also give the host an explanation"

... ...

The applause is the signal to strike

"This is also the flesh and blood of the master!" said the middle-aged man in the wheelchair coldly, "I guarantee to find a very safe place for the young master in Kyoto"

But he soon realized that something was amiss; why could his tongue still extend beyond his lips to lick his own tears? According to the doctor, his tongue had long since lost its ability to move, and its only function now was to easily slide back into the esophagus, blocking his airway, thus making him a rare genius of tongue swallowing suicide. Then he found that opening his eyes had also become easier; his field of vision was very broad, and his eyesight had improved significantly compared to before he fell ill. The scenery before him was clear, and an object woven from bamboo was lying horizontally in front of him. According to the doctor, his tongue had long since lost its ability to move, and its only function now was to easily slide back into the esophagus, blocking his airway, thus making him a rare genius of tongue swallowing suicide. Then he found that opening his eyes had also become easier; his field of vision was very broad, and his eyesight had improved significantly compared to before he fell ill. The scenery before him was clear, and an object woven from bamboo was lying horizontally in front of him.

The young blind man tilted his head slightly and reached out to bring the child back. Although he was more innocent than the average human, he was still unwilling to let the baby's face get too close to the hand of the venomous snake. At the same time, he expressed a purely polite inquiry with a monosyllabic word. The middle-aged man smiled as he looked at the child's face, but there was an indescribable, particularly terrifying quality in his smile.

This year marks the fifty-seventh year of the Qingguo Era. The war led by His Majesty the Emperor against the Western Barbarians has not yet concluded, and Count Sinan is also accompanying the army. In the capital, governance is in the hands of the Empress Dowager and the Council of Elders. On this day, a fire broke out at the Taiping Villa by the Liujing River on the outskirts of the capital. A group of night assassins took advantage of the flames to storm into the villa, killing anyone they encountered, committing a shocking massacre.

He suddenly laughed heartily and said: "This little fellow will surely have a bright future when he grows up."

... ...

In a state of utter desolation, a drop of wet liquid slid down from the corner of his eye

A child only two months old is actually able to wipe the blood off their own face. After experiencing such a terrifying event tonight, they can still sleep so soundly. Truly remarkable...

Dozens of menacing black cavalry confirmed the safety of the surroundings, clenched their right fists to signal, and reported that the assassins in the vicinity had been eliminated. The cavalry formation parted, and the carriage inside slowly advanced to the front of the young servant. With the assistance of his subordinates, the middle-aged man on the carriage transferred to a wheelchair. The middle-aged man, unable to use his legs, pushed the wheelchair beneath him and gradually approached the center of the scene, where the young boy stood straight as a gun. Observing the bamboo basket behind the young servant, a hint of color finally appeared on the pale face of the middle-aged man in the wheelchair.

The blind youth suddenly spoke, his voice still devoid of any emotion: "A new identity, a life untroubled."

After a moment of silence, the blind youth finally accepted this arrangement

A series of emotional shocks surged into Fan Shen's mind all at once, leaving him in a daze, as countless questions and immense fear occupied his body and soul

A cavalry unit broke off, charging into the heavily wounded ranks of the assassins like a scythe in the night, showing no mercy. Suddenly, a mage among the assassins raised his staff and began to chant a spell, and everyone present could feel an unknown energy wave starting to gather at the edge of the hills. The middle-aged man on the carriage furrowed his brow slightly but made no move; however, a shadow sprang forth beside him, darting through the night sky like a falcon.

Immediately following were countless muffled groans, and then there was a profound silence. After a while, Fan Shen felt something was amiss and cautiously parted his fingers to peek outside. The bamboo-woven basket divided the space before him into numerous sections, and through these openings, he could clearly see a dozen corpses lying on the ground, blood flowing profusely, and a stench filling the air.

Hmm?

The blind youth shook his head

... ...

The young servant, with a black cloth band covering his eyes, nodded slightly and then prepared to leave

The person carrying a bamboo basket had a black cloth strip covering his face, and in his hand, he held a black iron spear that resembled a sword but was not quite one. Blood was slowly dripping from the spear, and many corpses lay fallen beside him. These corpses were all skilled ambushers, with bloodstains remaining on their throats, indicating a fatal strike.

The middle-aged man frowned slightly, seemingly disgusted by the other person's words. After a brief pause, he said: "Can you do things like a child drinking milk or recognizing characters?" He sneered and added: "Blind man, what else can you do besides killing?"

The middle-aged man's hand gently caressed the wheelchair, as if trying to guess what the other party was afraid of. After a moment, he furrowed his brow and said: "I know what you are afraid of, but in this worldly realm, apart from the child's father, who else has the ability to protect him from such unknown dangers?"

Fan Shen struggled to keep his eyelids open, counting the meaningful things he had done in his life with his fingers. However, before he could finish counting the five thin fingers of his right hand, he sighed and sadly abandoned the task. The smell of medicine in the ward was always so pungent. The elderly man in the next bed had passed away a few days ago, presumably soon it would be his turn. He had contracted a peculiar illness, myasthenia gravis, a condition particularly suited for the male protagonists in romance novels. The smell of medicine in the ward was always so pungent. The elderly man in the next bed had passed away a few days ago, presumably soon it would be his turn. He had contracted a peculiar illness, myasthenia gravis, a condition particularly suited for the male protagonists in romance novels. It was said that there was no cure, and on the day he would pass away, he would be unable to move, with only tears left to flow.

Good people receive little in return

On a quiet and serene deep night, Fan Shen seemed to clearly sense his throat muscles gradually relaxing, unable to tighten any longer, while his respiratory muscles also became weak and flaccid, like a rubber band that had lost its elasticity. The clean little nurse from the hospital seemed to have disappeared, and beside him was an elderly woman, speaking with a tone of compassion and murmuring something.

But I am not the male protagonist of a romance novel, Fan Shen mumbled, but due to the lack of muscle function in his jaws, it turned into a string of indistinct murmurs. He looked at his middle finger, feeling quite sympathetic towards himself, "I am still a virgin"

... ...

The person was not angry, gently nudging the bamboo basket behind him: "Lame man, it seems you can only kill."

The middle-aged man sitting in a wheelchair is one of the very few who truly knows that the phenomenon of the Celestial Pulse exists. For reasons unknown, after Fan Shen's death, his soul arrived in this world, and astonishingly... it was reborn into the body of an infant, whose father or mother happens to be one of the enigmatic Celestial Pulse bearers on the continent

Fan Shen felt a sense of sadness as he extended his tongue to lick the liquid that had slid from the corner of his eye to his lips. To his surprise, he discovered that his tears were not only salty but also had a slight metallic taste—could it be that because he rarely bathed in the hospital, even his tears began to emit an unpleasant odor? He couldn't help but curse inwardly: "You think you're the male lead in a romance novel, crying like this?"

The middle-aged man smiled faintly: "This time, it was merely those nobles from Kyoto who took action. Once the master returns, I will naturally begin to deal with them."

This middle-aged man holds great power in Kyoto, employing extremely ruthless methods. Any official who falls into his hands for wrongdoing will reveal the truth within two days. His insight is sharp and discerning; however, even such an extraordinary figure failed to notice that the child was not peacefully asleep but had fainted from fear

Finally, nothing went wrong

The fear of death and the yearning for the flavors of life stirred within him an unprecedented complexity of feelings, and it was not the lovely nurse he had longed for in his heart who would see him off, but rather this old woman, which undoubtedly added to Fan Shen's melancholy. In a state of desolation, he hung his head, gazing at the piece of black cloth covering the window of the ward, blocking out the sunlight, and felt that life was truly as lonely as dog feces

Danzhou Port, where the owner's mother currently resides

The infant's eyes, somewhat vacant, drifted away from the faces of those who had saved its life, gazing ahead at the front of the carriage. Unlike an ordinary baby, its gaze did not wander; it was crystal clear yet unfocused, imbued with an indescribable essence. No one knew that within such a tender little body resided a soul from a different world. As the gaze wandered, the carriage curtain fluttered with the oncoming wind, revealing a glimpse of the verdant mountains outside and the long stone path receding rapidly behind, like countless scenes being rewound. No one knew that within such a tender little body resided a soul from a different world. As the gaze wandered, the carriage curtain fluttered with the oncoming wind, revealing a glimpse of the verdant mountains outside and the long stone path receding rapidly behind, like countless scenes being rewound.

The sound of countless piercing through the air echoed!

Where is it

The middle-aged man in the wheelchair understood that the other party, apart from listening to that young lady, could not be commanded even by his own master. He could only sigh and advise, "As for the matters in Kyoto, once the master returns, they will surely be resolved. Why must you insist on taking him away?"

... ...

A young servant from the other courtyard led his young master to break through the encirclement under the cover of night, pursued by a group of assailants clad in dark clothing. The two sides fought fiercely all the way to the southern exit of the city. The ambushers did not anticipate that this disabled youth was, in fact, an unfathomable powerhouse. Moreover, beyond the hills, there were reinforcements for the opposing side—these reinforcements' identities instilled even greater fear in the ambushers

... ...