A pale-looking boy with crimson-red eyes stood at the doorway of his room, his black hair fluttering in the night breeze drifting in through the open window.
Glancing at the sky from the corner of his eye, he wore a deep, distant expression that didn't match what a ten-year-old child should have.
'Am I going to die tomorrow?'
Ying Chen looked up at the stars and sighed several times. He lifted his right arm toward the sky, clenched his hand into a fist, and let determination ignite in his eyes.
"I will survive this calamity!"
The childlike voice, filled with resolve, echoed from the balcony. After making that vow, Ying Chen shut the window and walked to the bed.
Lying down, he pulled a thin green cloth blanket over his small body from head to toe and closed his eyes.
As his consciousness faded, Ying Chen gazed one last time into the endless darkness of his Sea of Consciousness, at the single thing that illuminated that void.
The glowing object was a red silk, its edges shining scarlet. At its center lay a pitch-black stain, exuding a chilling aura capable of terrifying any ordinary human—especially the small red cloud drawn atop the darkness, an omen of death.
Despite witnessing such strangeness, Ying Chen remained calm. He felt no fear, for that silk had been bound to the lotus mark on his forehead since he was born. The black space was his destiny. And the red cloud was tomorrow's calamity, one that could not be avoided.
If he tried, he would still suffer his fate. He had once attempted to stay home. Lightning struck the house. He was only alive because the silk emerged and saved him.
'Why do the heavens hate me so much? Why was I born different, with a mark? Am I a demon like everyone says?'
The world was bleak for little Chen.
He didn't cry, because he knew he needed to be strong. If he fell apart, fate would win—and he refused that. His life depended solely on himself. To reunite with his parents and fulfill the promise he made to his grandfather, he had to survive.
And he would, no matter the cost.
Holding onto that last resolve, Ying Chen drifted into sleep, his head resting on the soft pillow. Even asleep, his small hands remained tightly clenched.
Above the roof, the blue moon and stars vanished, swallowed by the night's darkness as midnight arrived. It was the hour when Yin energy grew stronger and frightening creatures emerged to roam the earth. A time when one should never wander without absolute confidence in their strength. And for little Ying Chen, it marked the beginning of the eve of his calamity.
…
The next morning, with half the sun peeking over the horizon, guards dressed in black robes struck gongs along the empty streets. Roused by the piercing noise, Ying Chen rose from bed, put on a white robe, and stepped out of his room.
The moment he crossed the threshold, a woman dressed like a servant appeared at the entrance. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, so lifeless that she looked like a walking corpse to Ying Chen. He ignored her and tried to walk past, but before he could get far, a hand grabbed the collar of his robe and lifted him effortlessly.
"Young master, many important people will be present today. We need to tidy up your appearance."
The servant whispered softly as she held the boy in her arms, careful not to drop him.
Ying Chen pouted, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance. He didn't argue with that corpse—it wasn't worth it. While she prepared him, he needed to think about how to stay alive.
'I'm going to face misfortune… Most likely in the Hidden Mist Forest during the Best Junior Examination of the Four Clans.'
'If I want to survive, I need to get strong. Yes, very strong! The forest is huge—there must be things inside that can make me stronger! But with my terrible luck, I should probably get some lucky lackeys to follow me… right?'
It was a brilliant idea. Ying Chen knew that, to stay alive, he couldn't let his human morality hold him back, but even so, he felt uneasy.
Glancing sideways at the emotionless corpse washing his hair, he wanted to ask her something. But he lost interest—her face made it clear she didn't value human life in the slightest.
Giving up on the question, he played with the water in front of him.
In the end, Ying Chen was still a ten-year-old boy.
…
After bathing, Ying Chen put on noble clothing—white fabric with red sleeves. A red hairpin tied his hair into a ponytail. With the lotus mark on his forehead, his youthful face, and his crimson-red eyes, he looked both elegant and striking, exuding the aura of a young master, the son of some Demon King.
"Why so much red? Red here, red there. Just because I was born with a red lotus doesn't mean I like red!"
Ying Chen shot exasperated looks at the servant. He truly disliked that color, constantly reminding him of the cloud in his destiny. Death was frightening—and so was red.
The servant, Shen Yuxie, ignored his glare. She placed a hand on his head, her expression unchanged, though deep within her eyes lingered a faint gentleness.
"The young master must not let himself be intimidated. During the trial, act like a little demon."
"…"
Ying Chen, knowing how emotionless she was, was even more surprised. This woman had no filter at all. Did she forget he was a child? He didn't know and didn't care. What mattered was that she was right—he couldn't afford to be kind.
'I'll examine each of them—and the monsters too—and quietly get close to whoever has the best luck. The junior trial isn't for me to become the best. It's for me to survive. And if I fail… will the silk save me again?'
Ying Chen didn't know, and he wasn't willing to bet his life on it. His grandfather had once told him that the life of every living being is determined solely by their own hands.
Whether an action, a choice, or a path—everything must be decided by oneself. To trust such choices to others was no different from becoming a puppet, controlled by a string held by hands that would move you however they wished.
"Let's go to the plaza."
Standing tall, Ying Chen walked ahead. Behind him, Shen Yuxie placed a hand under her chin, lost in thought. After a moment, she smiled. Ying Chen, who didn't see any of it, kept moving forward without looking back, focused only on surviving until this afternoon.