Fan Shen struggled to keep his eyelids open, counting on his fingers the meaningful things he'd done in his life. But before he could finish counting the five skinny, chopstick-like fingers on his right hand, he sighed and sadly gave up. The smell of medicine in the ward was always so pungent. The old man in the bed next to him had already reported to Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva a few days ago, and it would probably be his turn in a few days. He had some kind of strange disease, myasthenia gravis, the kind that was perfect for the male protagonist in a romance novel. It was said that there was no cure, and on the day he kicked the bucket, he wouldn't be able to move anything except his tears.

"But I'm not the male protagonist in a romance novel," Fan Shen mumbled, but because the muscles in his jaw weren't working, it came out as a string of garbled mutters. He looked at his middle finger, feeling sorry for himself, "I'm still a virgin."

...

He really hadn't done anything meaningful in his life, except help old grannies cross the road, give up his seat on the bus, get along well with his neighbors, help classmates cheat on exams... Fan Shen was a uselessly good man in the traditional sense. His parents had passed away long ago, leaving him alone in the hospital, waiting for the day his life would end.

"Good people don't get good rewards."

In a quiet, deep night, Fan Shen seemed to be able to clearly feel his throat muscles slowly relax, unable to tighten anymore. His respiratory muscles were also gradually weakening, like elastic bands that had lost their elasticity, spread out flat. The clean little nurse at the hospital had no idea where she'd run off to. Beside him was an older woman, babbling something with pity in her eyes.

"Is this dying?"

The fear of death and the longing for the taste of life made a complex feeling surge in his heart. And the fact that the one seeing him off wasn't the cute little nurse he'd been hoping for, but this auntie, undoubtedly added to Fan Shen's sadness. Feeling wretched and miserable, his eyes drooped, looking at the piece of black cloth blocking the sunlight on the hospital window, he felt that life was truly as lonely as dog shit.

...

...

Wretched and miserable, a drop of wet liquid slid from the corner of his eye.

Fan Shen felt a little sad, extended his tongue, and licked the liquid that had slid from the corner of his eye to his lips. He was surprised to find that his tears were not only salty, but also had a bit of a fishy taste - could it be that because he rarely showered in the hospital, even his tears were starting to stink? He couldn't help but curse in his heart, "Told you to shed tears, told you to shed tears, did you really think you were the male protagonist in a romance novel?"

But he immediately realized something was wrong. Why could his tongue still stick out of his lips to lick his tears? According to the doctor, his tongue had long lost its ability to move. Its only function now was to easily slide back into the esophagus, block his airway, and become a rare genius who committed suicide by swallowing his tongue. Then he found that it had also become easy to open his eyes, his vision was very broad, and his eyesight had become much better than before he got sick. The scenery in front of him was bright and clear, and something woven from bamboo was lying across his eyes.

Fan Shen, who had been spacing out, suddenly saw a scene that shocked him through those few bamboo strips. More than a dozen men in black, exuding a sense of ruthless killing, were wielding sharp weapons and hacking at him! He didn't have time to tell whether this was a dream or a strange experience before death. Purely subconsciously, he shrunk his head and covered his face with his hands. Any ordinary person would probably only make such an ostrich-like choice.

*Chi chi chi chi...* Countless sounds of tearing through the air rang out!

Then came countless muffled groans, followed by silence. After a while, Fan Shen felt something was wrong. He cautiously separated two fingers of his hand covering his face and peeked out. The bamboo basket divided the space in front of him into countless blocks. Through these holes, he could clearly see more than a dozen corpses lying on the ground, blood flowing everywhere, and the stench was overwhelming.

Fan Shen was frightened. Everything he saw was so real that he couldn't come to his senses for a moment. Then, he suddenly thought of the hands on his face. Could his hands move? Could his illness really be cured? Then what was going on in front of him? Was this just a dream? After he woke up, would he still be that useless person lying in bed, unable to move, just waiting to die?

If that was the case, then it would be better not to wake up from this dream. At least his hands could move, his eyes could blink. He thought sadly, and touched his wet face with his hand. When he retracted his hand, he found that it was covered in blood. It turned out that the drop of wet liquid that had dripped from the corner of his eye was actually blood that had splattered on his face. Fan Shen stared blankly at his hands, screaming in his heart, "These are definitely not my hands!" In front of him were a pair of incomparably white and tender, incomparably cute little hands. They were stained with blood, looking like white lotuses blooming in a slaughterhouse, absolutely not the small hands that an adult should have!

A series of emotional shocks flooded into Fan Shen's mind. He couldn't help but be stunned. Countless questions and endless terror occupied his body and mind.

...

This year was the fifty-seventh year of the Qing Yu Nian era. The war in which His Majesty the Emperor led the army to conquer the Western Barbarians was not yet over. Earl Sinan was also serving in the army. The capital was governed by the Empress Dowager and the Council of Elders. On this day, a fire broke out in the Taiping Residence by the Liujing River on the outskirts of the capital. A group of nocturnal experts took advantage of the fire to break into the residence, killing anyone they saw, committing a shocking bloodbath.

A young servant of the residence took his young master and broke through the encirclement under the cover of night. They were pursued by a group of fierce men wearing night clothes. The two sides fought all the way to the southbound crossing outside the city. The experts lying in ambush did not expect that this young man with disabilities was actually an unfathomable expert. And behind the hills, there was actually the other side's reinforcements - the identities of these reinforcements made these people even more afraid!

"Black Knights!" The fierce men who had been shot to death by crossbows wailed in the pool of blood. The reinforcements rode on horseback, wearing black armor, reflecting the moonlight in the sky, emitting a faint, soul-devouring luster. Each cavalryman held a hard crossbow that was only allowed to be equipped in the army. The light crossbows had previously fired quickly, already shooting most of the assassins to death.

Guarded by the black cavalry was a middle-aged man sitting in a carriage. His face was pale, and there were a few sparse strands of beard on his chin. He looked at the young servant carrying the child in the field, nodded, and then gently clapped his hands.

The applause was the signal to attack!

A team of cavalry split off, like scythes in the night, ruthlessly rushing into the heavily damaged assassin team. Suddenly, a mage in the assassin team raised his staff and began to chant a spell. The people in the field could feel some unknown energy fluctuations gathering on the edge of this hill. The middle-aged man in the carriage frowned slightly, but didn't do anything. A black shadow darted out from beside him, flying through the night sky like a falcon.

With a crisp sound, the mage's chanting stopped abruptly, and his head flew high, blood raining down.

The middle-aged man in the carriage shook his head: "These mages from the west never understand that in front of true experts, magic is as useless as the Prime Minister's pen."

Dozens of solemn black cavalry confirmed the safety of the surrounding area, clenched their right fists and gave a hand gesture, reporting that the surrounding assassins had been cleared. The cavalry team separated, and the carriage inside slowly moved forward, coming to the front of the young servant. The middle-aged man in the carriage, with the help of his subordinates, sat in a wheelchair. The middle-aged man, whose legs were not working well, pushed the wheelchair under him and slowly approached the center of the field, the young man who had been standing as straight as a spear. Looking at the bamboo basket on the back of the young servant, the pale face of the middle-aged man in the wheelchair finally showed a trace of blush:

"Finally, nothing happened."

The face of the person carrying the bamboo basket was covered with a black cloth strip. He held a black iron skewer that resembled a sword but wasn't, and blood was slowly dripping from the iron skewer. Many corpses were lying on the ground beside him. The corpses were all ambush experts, and there were blood spots left on their throats, apparently killed with one blow.

"I need you to give me an explanation for this matter." The person with the black cloth over his eyes said coldly. There was not a trace of trembling or emotion in his voice.

The look of tenderness on the face of the middle-aged man in the wheelchair disappeared instantly: "I will naturally give you an explanation, and I must also give the master an explanation."

The young servant with the black cloth nodded, and then prepared to leave.

"Where are you going to take this child?" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly, "You are blind, are you going to let the young master wander the Jianghu with you?"

"This is Miss's flesh and blood."

"This is also Master's flesh and blood!" The middle-aged man in the wheelchair said coldly, "I guarantee to find a very safe place for the young master in the capital."

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

The middle-aged man in the wheelchair knew that the other party would only listen to that Miss's words, and even his master could not order him, so he had to sigh and persuade him: "The matters in the capital will definitely be calmed down when the master returns, why do you have to take him away?"

"I don't trust your master."

The middle-aged man frowned slightly, seemingly very disgusted by the other party's words. After a short pause, he said: "Does the child know how to drink milk, read, can you do these things?" He sneered: "Blind man, what else can you do besides kill people?"

That person was not angry either, and gently pushed the bamboo basket behind him: "Cripple, you seem to only know how to kill people too."

The middle-aged man smiled阴阴: "Those who attacked this time are just the princes and nobles in the capital. After the master returns, I will naturally start to clean them up."

The blind young man shook his head.

The middle-aged man's hand gently caressed the wheelchair, seemingly guessing what the other party was afraid of. After a moment, he frowned and said: "I know what you are afraid of, but in this secular world, besides the child's father being able to protect him, who else has the ability to protect him from that unknown danger?"

The blind young man suddenly spoke, his voice still as emotionless: "A new identity, an undisturbed life."

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

"Where?"

"Danzhou Port, Master's mama lives there now."

After a period of silence, the blind young man finally accepted this arrangement.

The middle-aged man smiled and pushed the wheelchair to the back of the blind young man, stretched out his hands and took the child out of the bamboo basket. Looking at the child's ice-carved, jade-like, cute little face, he sighed: "He really looks exactly like his mother, so beautiful."

He suddenly laughed loudly: "This little guy will definitely have a bright future when he grows up."

His subordinates in the distance stood silently, suddenly hearing the adult make such a happy laugh, their faces were still motionless, but they were very shocked in their hearts, wondering what kind of important figure this little child was.

"Hmm?"

The young blind man tilted his head and reached out to take the child back. Although he was simpler than ordinary humans, he was not willing to let the baby's face in the basket be too close to this viper's hand. At the same time, he used a monosyllabic word to express a purely polite question. The middle-aged man smiled and looked at the child's face, the smile had an indescribable, particularly frightening taste:

"A child who is only two months old can actually reach out and wipe the blood off his face. After experiencing such a terrifying thing tonight, he can still sleep so soundly. He really deserves to be..."

His voice suddenly lowered, ensuring that his subordinates could not hear the words he said later: "...the child of a Tianmai Zhe."

This middle-aged man held great power in the capital, and his methods were extremely ruthless. Any official who committed a crime and fell into his hands would confess the truth within two days. His vision was even more venomous, but even such an extraordinary person did not see that this little child was not sleeping sweetly, but had fainted from fright.

...

Tianmai Zhe, Tian refers to heaven, and Mai refers to bloodline.

The meaning of Tianmai Zhe is to point to the bloodline left by heaven in the human world. In the legends of this world, every few hundred years, a bloodline left by heaven in the human world will begin to awaken.

This bloodline may represent a combat power that is so powerful that it cannot be resisted, such as that great general in the distant Nasgu Kingdom, who, at the historical juncture when the country was about to be destroyed by barbarians, assassinated most of the members of the barbarians' primitive council with his personal courage and combat power. Some Tianmai Zhes also show great talent in art or wisdom, such as the Western magician, Boer, who died three hundred years ago, and his wife, the playwright Fu Bo. Of course, no one can prove that they are the bloodlines that heaven left behind to bless the suffering human world. But in fact, these few people brought peace and many other things to the human world. Moreover, all Tianmai Zhes eventually disappeared without a trace. No one, not even a country, could detect any clues. They just appeared suddenly and disappeared suddenly, leaving nothing to prove their existence except for some obscure records.

The middle-aged man in the wheelchair was precisely one of the very few people who knew that this strange phenomenon of Tianmai Zhe really existed. For some reason, after Fan Shen died, his soul came to this world and was… unbelievably reborn into the body of an infant, and that infant's father or mother was actually the mysterious Tianmai Zhe on the continent.

At dawn, the battlefield had been cleaned up, and the carriage slowly drove onto the stone road leading to the east. Behind the carriage, a team of black cavalry and a pale middle-aged man in a wheeled chariot formed a very eerie picture. The carriage jolted over the stones, waking up the baby who was lying flat on the soft silk cushion.

The baby's eyes listlessly left the faces of those who had saved his life, looking at the front of the carriage, unlike ordinary babies whose eyes wandered. They were clear but unfocused, but had a few more indescribable tastes. No one knew that such a tender little body contained a soul from a different world. Where his gaze reached, the car curtain there fluttered with the oncoming wind, revealing a corner of the green mountains outside the car, and the long stone road that was rapidly receding behind, like countless pictures, were constantly being rewound.

In front of the carriage, the blind young man was holding the iron skewer tightly in his hand, a piece of black cloth covering his eyes, covering his eyes, and also covering the sky.