Zhuge Xianjun

The night wind drifted across the mountain.

The Plum Blossom Sect lay silent under moonlight.

In the courtyard, a young man in white stood alone, a paper fan in hand.

Zhuge Xianjun looked up.

“Tonight.”

“It begins.”

He had already seen everything.

The fire. The blood. The end.

Nothing would change.

Except—

You.

You stood at the edge, trembling.

Weak.

Out of place.

He glanced at you.

“…A mortal.”

No interest.

You did not matter.

BOOM.

“Enemy attack!!”

Chaos broke out.

You froze.

Enemies rushed in.

“You are—”

They never finished.

The fan moved.

Petals scattered.

Blood followed.

In an instant—

everyone fell.

You stared.

Unreachable.

More enemies came.

You stepped back.

You slipped.

You fell.

A blade turned toward you.

“A leftover?”

You couldn’t move.

You were going to die.

A petal passed.

The enemy dropped.

Zhuge Xianjun stood nearby.

He didn’t look at you.

You weren’t worth saving.

You survived by chance.

For a moment—

He paused.

Because something was wrong.

In all his visions—

You did not exist.

“…Irrelevant.”

He turned away.

Toward the ending he had already seen.

You remained.

Shaking.

Breathing.

Alive.

That shouldn’t happen.

You slowly stood.

Weak.

But certain of one thing—

The future was not absolute.

In the distance, a terrifying aura rose.

Zhuge Xianjun walked forward.

Unstoppable.

Behind him—

You were still alive.

And that was the first mistake of fate.

*Pe