Weapon seller in the world of magic

Mark opened his eyes, but he wasn't in the snow anymore.

He stood barefoot on the edge of a crystal lake. The water stretched wide, still as glass, reflecting the silver peaks that towered around him. The moon above loomed massive, round, and pale, as if it were descending toward the earth. Its light cast a silvery shimmer on the lake, painting the world in frost and silence.

Mark took a step forward. His reflection on the water wavered and shifted.

It wasn't his face.

The man in the reflection had eyes like hollow stars, deep and weathered, but not cruel. His hair was longer, tied loosely at the back. A heavy black bow rested across his back, forged from what looked like bone, twisted, ancient, and in the shape of a dragon's spine.

He knew that face. Somehow, without understanding how, he knew. "Houyi." The name echoed in his head.

The scenery around him shifted all of a sudden.

Gone was the lake. Now he stood on a land cracked and bleeding. The ground was scorched and dry, blackened as if fire had kissed it for far too long. Above him, the sky blazed, not with one sun, but ten. Ten golden, burning spheres hovered overhead, pouring merciless heat onto the land. The air shimmered, thick and dry, filled with the scent of ash and death.

Mark—no, Houyi—looked around.

The rivers had long evaporated. Crops had turned to dust. Trees were nothing but cinders. Here and there, twisted bodies of deer, birds, and humans lay motionless, dried like leaves in a furnace.

The people who remained huddled inside a dome of frost magic, conjured by the great Frost Dragon King who hovered above, wings stretched wide like a celestial guardian.

Behind him, warriors knelt. Dirty, gaunt, eyes hollow with despair.

"Lord Houyi," one of them whispered, voice trembling, "may your aim be true."

He did not answer them. He stepped forward, drawing the black bow from his back.

He raised his hand and summoned the first arrow, using his life force. His fingers trembled as he drew the string back.

And then, he released the arrow.

*Ding*

*Swoosh*

The arrow tore through the sky like lightning and struck one of suns.

As soon as the arrow struck, suction force erupted from the arrow and engulfed it entirely.

But Houyi staggered as his breath caught. His chest tightened, and something inside him withered, like a flame snuffed out too soon.

Still, he raised the bow again.

Another arrow. Another sun. Another piece of him torn away.

Mark felt the draining of life. Each shot made his limbs heavier, his heartbeat slower. Yet, he didn't stop.

Eventually, the ninth sun fell, and at last, the sky dimmed to its natural glow.

Cool wind kissed his cheeks.

He dropped to his knees, unable to hold the bow anymore, losing his strength in his body. The warriors rushed forward, but someone else reached him first.

It's his wife, Chang'e—the moon goddess.

Her robes fluttered like white flame. Her eyes were pools of grief. She knelt beside him, cradling him against her chest.

"Dear," she whispered, stroking his cheek, "why did you do it? Why did you feed me a lie that you would live forever and make me drink that elixir of immortality instead, knowing your spell would bring you into this state? Why?"

He smiled weakly. His hand trembled as he reached to touch her face. "It's actually a very simple question, Chang'e. Why? It's because I love you, Chang'e, and I want a long life for you," he whispered. "That's all there is. Live for me… protect this world from above. Don't tell our children how I died. Tell them how I lived instead. Tell them their father once walked with fire in his veins and hope in his hands."

She shook her head, tears falling onto his brow. "I won't let you go. You still have time—we can fix this. We can… find some spell that lets me transfer my immortality to you."

"No," he interrupted softly. "I want peace during my last years of life, Dear. Let me grow wheat. Let me mend the shoes. Like my father did. Let me see the stars without carrying them."

He gripped her hand gently.

"However, promise me you won't visit. Don't chase ghosts. Promise me, Chang'e, that you will not abandon your duties over love for me. Promise me."

Her lip trembled. "I… I promise."

The vision faded.

Mark's soul trembled. He felt like he was the one saying those words, not Houyi. Mark felt genuine love for the woman.

And then he blacked out, and the scenery changed.

Mark blinked again and now sat on a jade throne.

He wore robes of scarlet and gold, adorned with a phoenix crest. Crowds stretched beyond the throne room, kneeling before him.

"Long live Yandi, the Flame Emperor!"

The voice was his, but older, wiser. His back was straight, yet his eyes carried exhaustion.

"Another border rebellion, my lord."

"Divert troops."

"Taxes rising in the west."

"Send grain."

Every day was a fire. Every hour, another burden. And yet… he bore it all.

A little girl ran through the chamber, dodging ministers.

"Father!"

Yandi chuckled. "Yes, yes. Come here, Nuwa."

She climbed onto his lap like it was her throne, too. "Will you teach me flame arts today?"

"After court."

She pouted. "You always say that."

"I always keep my word."

The scenery shifts to Yandi meditating at the seaside rock while little Nuwa is playing around. Suddenly, the wind blew harder, and the conch in her hand flew away.

She chased after it, only to fall into the sea, and got swept away by the currents.

By the time he realized it, his daughter was already drowned in the sea.

Yandi dived into the sea and brought out his daughter's body and lay on the land. He saw she was no longer breathing.

Yandi blamed himself, cried and filled with rage. He summons the most powerful fireball and swore to destroy the entire sea.

At this, Yujiang appears and calms him down. As Yandi demands him to give back or his daughter's life, Yujiang can also tell him that she can't return to life as it is against the law of nature, but he can transplant her soul into this…

He showed him a palm sized egg and say that this is an egg of a divine beast and it is blessed with immortality.

After planting her soul into the egg, Yujiang leaves.

The egg then hatches, revealing it to be a bird. Yandi names her Jingwei.

The scene cuts to his final days.

He sat in a garden, sipping tea with shaky hands. His grandchildren visited with their own children. He gave his eldest grandchild his imperial seal and said that he would entrust the world into his hands.

"I'm tired," he then said, watching the sunset.

His grandson held his hand.

Moments later, he died.

Mark felt the moment of Yandi's death not as pain, but as release from pain and burdens. A deep peace washed over him as if he lived a life without regrets.

The world once again changed, and Mark found himself in a white space dimension. This time, he had his own body, but he seemed to be filled with confusion. "Who am I? Am I Houyi? Or am I Shennong (Yandi)?"