Chapter Ten: The White Witch

This was a classically beautiful face, no doubt about it—a true beauty in the making.

Tang Ruyan! It was actually Tang Ruyan!

“Prophet.” The icy voice slipped from her rounded lips, yet that delicate face betrayed not the slightest hint of emotion.

“You—” At that single word—Prophet—Guan Qian’s entire expression grew incredibly complex. For a moment, he found himself at a loss for words.

Clearly, this woman had uncovered his secret, and in such a sudden, unexpected way.

“Who are you, really?” Guan Qian pointed at Tang Ruyan in astonishment, feeling a powerful, inexplicable pull toward her.

She had always given him a sense of mystery, something cold and enigmatic. Apart from her frosty demeanor, there seemed to be nothing else about her to understand.

And yet tonight, she had appeared just like that, and uncovered his other identity.

“This belongs to you.” Tang Ruyan’s gaze was fixed on the crystal skull, but she held it out to him with both hands. “You may call me the White Witch.”

“The White Witch?!” Guan Qian was taken aback. Such a peculiar title could not possibly belong to the modern world.

He frowned, his gaze shifting between Tang Ruyan’s unchanging face and the shimmering crystal skull. Was there some connection?

“Yes, the White Witch. To be precise, I am your guardian—the Prophet’s Guardian.” Tang Ruyan spoke calmly, as though nothing in this world could disturb her composure or stir her desires.

Guan Qian fell silent. He did not question her words—instead, he felt their weight settle heavily upon him.

The Prophet’s Guardian. What significance did this cold woman hold in his life? He could neither grasp nor fathom it.

“Take good care of this crystal skull. It is the skull of the First Prophet—in other words, your ancestor.” Tang Ruyan’s tone was light, yet her words carried a respectful gravity.

“My ancestor? My ancestor!” Guan Qian echoed her last words, clearly stunned.

This incomparable crystal skull was actually the relic of his forebear.

In that instant—

Guan Qian’s eyes flew open wide, as memories surged through him like an ancient flood. The white-eyed boy from his dreams, the old man with white eyes seated atop the colossal stone figure—all shifted and morphed within the crystal skull, until they finally overlapped as one.

A sense of ancient sorrow and desolation filled Guan Qian’s entire being.

“What’s wrong?” The cold voice abruptly broke his reverie. Tang Ruyan looked at him with a flicker of confusion—her first time sensing such a shift in his emotions.

“Tell me about the Prophet.” Guan Qian took the crystal skull, and with a heavy heart, sat down on the edge of the bed. He knew Tang Ruyan must have much to tell, and now he needed answers to all the questions weighing on him.

“Very well.” Tang Ruyan stood by the window, moonlight wrapping her elegant figure in an ethereal glow, fresh and pure as a lotus just risen from water.

“The Prophet was born at the end of mankind—a time of death and despair, now forever buried and forgotten by humanity.” Her voice was soft, and a faint mist clouded her dark eyes, as if obscured by rainsmoke.

Guan Qian listened in silence, vaguely sensing a ripple of emotion in this ice-cold beauty, perhaps for the first time.

“Humanity emerged from a tiny tribe, and after thousands of years of growth, finally built a glorious civilization. But disaster struck, and the whole earth fell into crisis.

“Floods, plagues, darkness, sterility, storms, earthquakes, drought, slaughter, the fight for survival… All misfortunes descended at once. Humanity was on the brink of annihilation.” Tang Ruyan spoke quietly, but her trembling voice betrayed the calm she strove to maintain.

“People began to migrate, endlessly, but the dead only grew in number. Hope seemed lost. Just as extinction loomed, the gods descended, bringing hope and granting mankind new life. The Prophet was born then. The gods bestowed upon him great power, and promised that one day they would return, to stand with humanity against an unknown force.” Tang Ruyan’s mood lightened slightly as she recounted the Prophet’s birth, but her words faltered, and she paused for a long time before continuing.

Guan Qian pondered her story, shaken and sorrowful. Humanity was, in the end, so fragile.

In just a few short minutes, he had experienced the rise and fall of an entire era; his feelings were too tangled to express. Yet as he reflected on Tang Ruyan’s words, he began to sense valuable clues.

Humanity’s doom led to migrations, salvation by the gods, and the birth of the Prophet.

This matched perfectly the descent of the white light in his dreams. Could that white orb have been the so-called god? And the great power it granted, was that the white-eyed boy?

That boy led humanity out of death, rebuilt civilization, but the light never returned. As he aged, he erected the giant stone statue—was it meant to signal that he waited always for the mysterious light’s return?

Guan Qian furrowed his brow, staring long at the crystal skull in his hands. The atmosphere grew heavy.

“Later, among us arose a group of people—the Prophet’s Guardians, which is what I wished to tell you about.” Tang Ruyan paused, glanced at the silent Guan Qian, and continued.

“There are two kinds of Prophet’s Guardians: the White Witches and the Black Witches. The White Witches excel at divination with dragon bones and turtle shells, at interpreting the mysteries of the cosmos. The Black Witches, on the other hand, were skilled in using sorcery to combat disaster. But in time, the Black Witches betrayed humanity. They sought to kill the Prophet and rule the world, but in the end, they received the Prophet’s punishment.

“The Black Witches were exterminated, and the White Witches became the Prophet’s only guardians. Yet at that time, it was as if the Prophet foresaw something. He grew more and more troubled, but told no one of his prophecy. Then, one day, he asked us to construct a vast monument, saying the gods would bless us. But…” Tang Ruyan fell into deep recollection, but Guan Qian suddenly interrupted her.

“Wait!” Guan Qian’s heart gave a jolt. For a moment, as when he had first met Tang Ruyan, he stared at her with wide eyes.

That flawless face, so pure and ethereal, seemed almost unreal—yet now, to Guan Qian, it appeared as if conjured from a dream.

(Moon Palace requests recommendations and bookmarks! Go, Prophet! The story continues!)