1. This story is set in an alternate world. Everything is fictional, trust the science, okay?

2. Please don’t roast me. If you do, I might pull an M‑move and kiss you out of nowhere.

Think about it: did you at least say “thanks” while cursing me?

3. If you feel the plot is weird or illogical, you can totally close the page and remove it from your shelf. There are tons of good novels out there—don’t force yourself to hate‑read mine.

4. This is a 1v1 romance. Both leads are clean, and yes, there’s CP and emotional drama. If you want a no‑CP story, run while you can.

5. Important: this is not a “super‑dominant‑female‑lead” type of novel.

The moment summer began, a storm slammed into the outskirts of Dudu with zero warning—fast, loud, and ruthless.

Celeste Whitmore was standing before the statue of the Three Pure Ones, halfway through wiping dust off with a cloth.

A deafening crack exploded overhead, shaking the entire Daoist temple from foundation to rooftop.

Her head snapped up. A streak of violet lightning tore across the sky like a wild dragon, smashing straight toward the backyard. The sudden glare cut across her calm, pale face.

“That’s bad.”

She flung the cloth aside and grabbed the peach‑wood sword resting on the altar, bolting out without a second thought.

Rain hammered down instantly, soaking her Daoist robe until it clung to her thin frame.

The backyard was even more dilapidated than the front hall, weeds swallowing up the path.

In the far corner stood an old dry well said to be over a century old, sealed with a slab of bluestone.

Right now, thin wisps of black mist were snaking out from the cracks around the stone, looking especially creepy under the curtain of rain.

Boom.

Another bolt of lightning shot straight at her, aiming right for the top of her head.

Celeste Whitmore’s pupils tightened. She lifted her sword toward the sky, her voice sharp and steady: “Heaven and Earth as one, the source of all breath!”

The red talisman marks carved on the peach‑wood blade flared with sudden light, colliding with the violet lightning midair. The clash burst into a blinding flash.

The shockwave blasted Celeste back three steps before she managed to steady herself.

She dropped to one knee, breath hitching as she wiped the rain off her face.

In her head she was already cursing. Seriously, which deity had she pissed off this time? She hadn’t done anything remotely evil lately!

A chill crawled down her spine.

She spun around on instinct—only to see a dark shape shooting up from the bottom of the well.

Celeste Whitmore reacted in a flash. Her wooden sword was already raised across her chest as she blurted out, “Lin bing dou zhe jie zhen lie qian xing!”

A burst of golden light flared. The shadow let out a muffled grunt and finally revealed its true form.

It was a man—tall, lean, and wrapped in a dark robe soaked through with blood. Even drenched like this, he carried a kind of cold, untouchable nobility.

His face was ghost-pale. His fox-like eyes were sharp enough to slice, and the cinnabar mark on his nose bridge made him look dangerously unreal.

He shot her a frigid glance. Celeste felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up, like she’d just been targeted by a venomous snake.

“A reaper?” She narrowed her eyes. The aura of the underworld around him was obvious, but way more intense than any normal ghost officer she’d ever seen.

The man parted his thin lips, voice crisp and icy, like shattered jade hitting frozen ground. “Who are you?”

Celeste almost snorted.

Seriously? He barged straight into her territory and then had the nerve to interrogate her?

She was about to clap back when he abruptly raised a hand. A bead of dark red blood lifted from his fingertip and shot straight between her brows.

Celeste: “...?”

The man’s lips curled, a cold, strange smile flickering in his eyes. “The bond is sealed. If I live, you live. Should I perish—”

“You fall with me.”

Celeste hadn’t even recovered from the icy sting between her brows when the man suddenly swayed. His body went limp like someone had cut his strings.

“Hey!”

She instinctively reached out, and his tall frame collapsed hard against her shoulder.

A chill brushed against the side of her neck, sharp enough to make her whole body jolt.

Was this underworld errand-runner made of paper or what?!

A second ago he was all “you die, I die” like some unhinged tyrant, and now he just… passed out?

Grinding her teeth, Celeste Whitmore grabbed his wrist. His spirit form was turning faint, edges blurring like he might vanish straight into the air at any moment.

She stared at that ridiculously handsome, almost otherworldly face and couldn’t help cursing herself. Talk about letting beauty scramble your brain.

“Great. Just great.”

She honestly didn’t want to bother with this lunatic who’d forced a contract on her, but if he really kicked the bucket…

Celeste rubbed between her brows and clicked her tongue.

She absolutely did not plan on dying together with some random underworld guy. No matter how good-looking he was, that deal was not happening.

One arm holding him steady, she raised her other hand, forming a seal as she murmured under her breath:

“Heaven and earth bear witness, yin and yang converge—grant him shelter for now.”

The jade bracelet shimmered softly, pulling the man inside.

She had just slipped it back onto her wrist when a rustling sound cut through the rain.

Three people in raincoats poked their heads out, phones raised, faces pale with shock.

“D-Daoshi… who were you talking to just now?” the leader stammered.

Celeste kept her face blank. “I was taking a shower and singing. You’re interrupting.”

The three: “...”

The livestream comments exploded:

“Holy crap! Pretty Daoist lady!”

“This acting is S-tier, I swear.”

"That lightning just now was real, right?!"

The girl behind the blond guy let out a sudden shriek, her finger trembling as she pointed behind Celeste Whitmore. "Th-that well is… smoking! It's leaking black stuff!"

Celeste didn’t even bother turning around. With a flick of her fingers, a yellow talisman shot out, slicing through the air and landing right at the rim of the well. The black mist vanished instantly.

Her eyes swept over the group. "Who are you people?"

"We’re… uh… a paranormal exploration team…" the girl whispered. Her gaze kept darting nervously back to the well. "We were just passing by… totally by accident…"

Celeste gave a soft, dry chuckle.

City folks. They treat the supernatural like some amusement park, but the moment something real pops up, they freak out harder than anyone.

She was about to walk away when the blond guy jumped in front of her.

"Daoist! Could we maybe…" He rubbed his palms together, grinning like he was begging for a bargain at a night market. "Buy a protection charm?"

Celeste narrowed her eyes, letting her gaze drift—slow and obvious—over their expensive-looking filming gear.

Well, well. Someone just walked right up and handed her incense money.

Her eyes brightened, and she flashed a harmless, innocent smile. "Five hundred per charm." She held up five fingers.

"So cheap?!" the three of them blurted out together.

Celeste: "…"

Great. Miscalculated.

She was still thinking about adjusting the price when the blond guy already pulled out his phone and scanned the code at lightning speed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste noticed a clump of gray clinging to each of their shoulders.

She suddenly reached out and tapped a finger to the center of each person’s forehead. The fuzzy gray shadows let out sharp screeches before dissolving into nothing.

"Stop going to places full of yin energy just because you want a thrill." She tossed them three peace talismans. "Keep messing around like this and even immortals won’t bother saving you."

The comment stream exploded again:

"Pretty good acting, I’ll give you that."

"Yeah, definitely a script. Real talismans aren’t that cheap, bro."

Celeste Whitmore couldn’t be bothered to respond. She turned around and headed toward the front hall.

Behind her, the blond guy practically shrieked, "Guys! Hit that follow button! Next week we’re livestreaming a night raid at the mass grave!"

Her steps froze for half a second. She shook her head.

Some people really sprint toward disaster like it’s a festival.

The moment Celeste stepped over the threshold, a blur of teal robes barreled straight at her. The oversized sleeves almost slapped her in the face.

"Celeste! What happened in the backyard? That lightning scared my soul right out of my body!"

The man was her overly dramatic senior brother, the current master of Xujing Temple—Jasper Avalon.

His handsome face was basically stamped with the words *terrified of poverty*, as if scared the only roof they had left would be blasted into scrap.

"Something nasty crawled into the backyard," Celeste said. Just as the words fell, the jade bracelet on her wrist pulsed with a freezing chill, so cold she shivered.

Jasper’s worry evaporated instantly, replaced by the hungry glow of a wolf spotting braised pork.

He shoved his ancient phone—its screen cracked like a spiderweb—right up to her face, voice almost floating away. "Celeste! We’re rich! We’re finally rich! Look!"

On the screen was the video of her summoning lightning to save herself, the title blunt as a brick: "Shocking! Mysterious Beauty Taoist in Deep Mountain Temple Summons Lightning with Peachwood Sword!"

A string of dizzying zeroes trailed behind the view count.

"Tomorrow! I swear, by tomorrow the TV crew will be lugging cameras up here!"

Jasper was so hyped he spun in place, like he could already see the donation money flooding in.

Braised pork was practically waving at him. "Xujing Temple is finally rising from the ashes!"

The two of them were great at exorcising ghosts and drawing talismans, yet somehow both carried the cursed "misfortune of poverty" from the Five Woes and Three Deficiencies.

They’d guarded this run-down little temple for over ten years, living off treating headaches for the villagers and occasionally driving out bugs and mice for pocket change—life so clean and sparse it made mountain spring water look extravagant.

That lightning strike… seriously, could it have shown up at a worse time?

Celeste Whitmore just stared at Jasper Avalon, who was still cowering like the sky had a personal grudge against him. Her temples throbbed so hard she almost wondered if the thunder had zapped her nerves too.

Three days later, inside the Whitmore family villa in the Imperial Capital.

Outside the tall floor‑to‑ceiling windows stretched a perfectly manicured garden, every leaf trimmed like it had been interviewed before being allowed to stay. The living room was all understated luxury—quiet, polished, expensive without trying.

Mrs. Whitmore lounged lazily on the leather sofa, aimlessly tapping the remote with her fingertips. The TV was playing a weird‑news segment, the host speaking with the kind of dramatic tone that screamed she was paid by the decibel.

“…and this mysterious young Taoist actually wielded a peach‑wood sword to call down lightning. The whole scene looks straight out of a fantasy blockbuster…”

Mrs. Whitmore looked bored out of her mind and was about to switch channels when the camera suddenly cut to a close‑up.

A girl in Taoist robes was lowering her head to check the peach‑wood sword in her hands. A loose strand of hair slid to the side, revealing a small moon‑shaped birthmark on her neck.

Mrs. Whitmore shot upright, the remote slipping from her fingers and landing on the soft rug with a dull thud.

“Vincent! Vincent, get out here, quick!” Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

Mr. Whitmore stepped out of the study. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at this girl—” Mrs. Whitmore pointed at the screen.

Mr. Whitmore froze mid‑step. His teacup fell and shattered on the floor. “This… no, that’s impossible…”

“It’s our daughter! It has to be Chara!” Mrs. Whitmore could no longer hold herself together; she rushed right up to the TV.

Her trembling fingers touched the cold surface of the screen, brushing over the birthmark.

“The crescent birthmark… she had it when she was born. I remember it like it was yesterday. That’s my daughter. She’s alive. She’s really alive!”

The surge of joy—so sharp, so overwhelming—nearly made her knees give out.

Mr. Whitmore snapped back to his senses and snatched up his phone. “Prepare the car immediately. I’m going to Xujingguan myself!”