Chapter 131: Brutal Devastation

As online buzz reached its fever pitch, the publicity team seized the moment and released Song Wan’s performance clip.

The night was dark and windless; the world was silent. There was no sound of insects, no barking dogs, no crying children. It was the most ordinary of small towns, bustling with noise and crowds by day, filled with street vendors and ceaseless calls—a place bursting with life and joy. Yet, once night fell, the town felt as if not a single living soul remained.

No, not a single living thing. Even the wind seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Just then, a figure in white drifted slowly from the far end of the town. His hair was tied high, his features softened by a gentle, warm smile, looking every bit like an immortal descended to earth. He walked from the distance, a sight so sublime it made one forget the mundane, compelling the heart to sigh, "A noble gentleman, pure as jade."

Yet, in this setting, it only felt eerie.

Han Sen’s original performance, bolstered by background music, had successfully conjured a sense of dread. It became one of the clips his fans cited to prove his superior acting skills—a scene many even hailed as a classic. Previously, no one questioned this claim. Even if other viewers didn't fully agree, they felt Han Sen’s performance was decent, at the very least not embarrassing, and surprisingly immersive.

However, Guo Kai’s earlier performance had already delivered a resounding slap to the faces of the netizens and fans who thought Han Sen was talented. They had clicked on Han Sen’s clip first—after all, he was the original actor. If they wanted to see Han Sen and Tang Su get schooled, they had to know how the *Starlight* crew was doing it.

But… was this really considered good acting? What a joke! It was clearly the work of the score, wasn’t it? Stripped of the music, the "noble gentleman" aura, the "immortal" temperament, and the eerie atmosphere vanished. The moment Han Sen appeared, many netizens actually laughed out loud. It was supposed to be a perfectly normal scene—Han Sen walking down the street—but his demeanor, his eyes, and his expression of affected arrogance, which made him look down his nose at everyone, were laughable.

"Oh my god, who is this? Han Sen? I actually thought this was a classic? I want to gouge my own eyes out!"

Then, they looked at Guo Kai’s performance. No music, no lines, same angle and lighting. Guo Kai lacked the backdrop Han Sen had, as the crew had filmed the segment in an empty lot due to time constraints. Yet, even so, as Guo Kai walked toward the camera, his immense acting talent brought an unparalleled power of suggestion. He simply walked with a smile, his eyes picturesque, his gait calm, yet it made one inwardly marvel: what a truly jade-like gentleman.

That wasn't all. With the same angle and approach, not only did Guo Kai better embody the gentle gentleman, but despite the lack of a town, a mere glance from him—left to right, up to down—followed by a slight frown, made one feel as if rows of houses stood on either side. His slightly constricted pupils made one feel that something was wrong with the environment, instinctively quickening the pulse.

Comparing the two, the difference was clear. This was a battle between two men. Even with an incomparable advantage—filming in an actual town—Han Sen was utterly crushed by Guo Kai’s performance without props.

Then, the release of Song Wan’s video drove Han Sen into the abyss.

Song Wan, dressed in white, with gentle eyes and a slight smile, captured the hearts of every viewer the moment she appeared on screen. Their minds went blank; their gazes were glued to her, unable to look away. A powerful aura seized their spirits from the start. Every arch of her brow, every curl of her lips, every lift of her hand or step of her foot seemed imbued with a strange magic, causing hearts to flutter and minds to wander.

Yet, this feeling was devoid of any impure thoughts. Regardless of gender, transcending looks and worldly desires, it was a sense of reverence and longing for a god. Everyone simply wanted to worship her, to place her high upon a pedestal, to let her dwell in the clouds. Even a single glance or smile from her was enough to make them willingly submit. To harbor any other feelings felt like an insult to her, something that shouldn't be.

In the original drama, the character was the only true immortal in the cultivation world—a role so captivating it was beyond measure. When the show first aired, it was a massive hit, but it wasn't without controversy. Han Sen’s character wasn't the lead; he was the second male lead who loved the heroine. By the finale, fans were so incensed they mailed razor blades to the director and screenwriter—real blades, not threats. One fan even tracked down the director’s home and left a box of them at his doorstep, causing quite a scandal.

The reason? No one could understand why the heroine wouldn't love the second male lead! He was so handsome, so powerful, and treated her with such devotion! Back then, the trope of the "domineering CEO" hadn't yet flooded the market, and the show’s main lead was the typical "righteous and upright" hero. But the second lead? Strong but not overbearing, gentle but not promiscuous, high above yet willing to lower himself for her. Most importantly, he treated everyone else with indifference but was entirely at the heroine's beck and call.

If that character existed today, he would be the ultimate fan-favorite lead. In an era where character creation was relatively one-dimensional, such a persona was ahead of its time. They succeeded, and the character gained countless fans. It was such a success that when the heroine chose the lackluster main lead instead, the director and screenwriter were viciously attacked. At the time, no one thought Han Sen’s performance was flawed—the character was so perfect, how could it be? So, Han Sen was placed on the throne of a "male god." Even as fans changed their favorites over the years, that role remained an irreplaceable classic.

However, the old confusion found its answer in Song Wan’s performance. Yes, the second lead was the only true immortal. He was so good, so ethereal, so enticing yet untouchable. His aloofness wasn't an act; it was because everything about him transcended the mortal realm. That was why he seemed untouchable, why he felt sacrosanct. Such a person was truly perfect—but perfect to the point of distance. "He is so perfect, and I am not. To be with him would be to desecrate his perfection."

That was the thought that struck every netizen the moment they saw Song Wan. They finally resonated with the heroine: such a wonderful man could not be claimed by one person. They dared not get too close, fearing their own worldly emotions would stain his purity.

They were suddenly enlightened, their fingers itching to search for the show again to see if the heroine felt as conflicted and inferior as they did. But soon, they were pulled back to the video by Song Wan’s performance. She didn't look around, didn't stop—she just walked forward, her expression unchanged. Yet, inexplicably, her sudden shift to a serious, icy aura made the viewers tighten their hearts: something was wrong.

After a few more steps, Song Wan stopped and lowered her eyelids. Everyone followed her actions, holding their breath, afraid to disturb her. Yet, within this caution lay a faint, indiscernible terror—a fear that something was about to crawl out from the surroundings.

*Whoosh.*

Song Wan’s eyes snapped open. Her gaze remained gentle, but it was fixed firmly on the path ahead. Director Zhou, stunned by her eyes, cut to a close-up. Her expression was still tender, but deep within, there was only indifference; deeper still, light swirled as if containing a thousand stars. One look, and the viewer was captivated, stripped of the ability to think.

"So beautiful..." At that moment, countless netizens murmured in unison.

*Click.*

The screen went black. The viewers remained immersed in Song Wan’s gaze, unable to return to reality. What kind of eyes were those? What kind of gentle yet ruthless gaze? What kind of world was hidden within?

The first to regain composure and post a comment online was the actress who played the heroine—Zhu Qin. Zhu Qin was an actress, not a celebrity. Five years ago, she had retired from the industry after marrying into a wealthy family, becoming an envied socialite. Even when fake news about her ran rampant over the years, she had never spoken out. Her husband loved her dearly and couldn't bear to see her bullied, always stepping in to defend her, but she had never appeared publicly again.

Her uncharacteristic outburst this time was because that drama held a certain place in her heart—though not a good one. Before that show, she was a sought-after actress; any project she touched was a hit. After that show, while she wasn't entirely ruined, her reputation was destroyed, and her status plummeted. The reason was the fans' displaced anger. Because Han Sen’s character was deemed so "classic" and "tragic," everyone else—including the actors and the director—suffered, bearing the brunt of the fans' vitriol for years. One role and one drama had made Han Sen, but it had ruined several talented actors.

Zhu Qin wrote: "When someone used us as stepping stones to climb the ladder, I said, 'Good and evil will be repaid, the heavens have a cycle. Look up and see, the heavens spare no one!' To that person and his harlot, are you... doing well?"