Once upon a time, there reigned a formidable and ambitious king in the land of Wu.
This sovereign bore a son—
a prince born beneath a sky veiled in blood-mist, while ash-rain blanketed the capital of Wu.
From the moment of his birth, the palace seers warned the king:
"This child's soul is bound to a great destiny—one that devours the light. He was born on the day a curse descended!"
Yet the king, rather than fearing this omen, saw it as a sign of power.
And so the boy was raised beneath a ruthless discipline—bereft of affection, taught only of conquest.
By the age of fifteen, he commanded legions.
At twenty, he had beheaded his enemies and drank from their skulls at feasts.
But beneath his triumphs, the prince carried a wound from childhood: his mother had been burned alive, accused of being a Witch—a dark sorceress practicing forbidden arts.
He had watched her die with his own eyes…
laughing hysterically, having lost all grasp of sanity.
Meanwhile, the King himself rode beyond the walls of his citadel, bearing sword and banner.
At his side were thousands of horsemen, armored and trained in both steel and sorcery.
Their goal: to conquest of their ancient enemy—the neighboring kingdom of Yue.
In the ensuing war, the King of Wu slew the ruler of Yue with his own hand.
He achieved his ambition: uniting two realms beneath his dominion.
But what he did not know was this—
the son of the fallen Yue king had come of age, and the throne would not lie empty.
Ignorance is a sin of its own. It blinds even the mighty to the turn of fate.
As the King sought to claim Yue's palace as his throne of final victory, he unknowingly entered the place that would become his tomb.
When word of his father's death reached him, the Prince of Wu carved vengeance into his soul.
He took up his spear and sword, spurred his steed, and roared to his legions with a voice ragged from wrath.
And so… blood and defeat rained upon the new King of Yue. A young ruler no older than the Prince himself.
The King of Yue was captured—
left to rot behind bars of shame, a living monument to the Prince's revenge.
Believing himself untouchable, the Prince grew arrogant. His heart hardened, his touch turned cold. He become apathy to anything.
He ruled his twin realms atop blood-soaked soil. The bones of men formed his foundation. His tyrannical will, divine decree.
His queen and his wise minister, disillusioned by his cruelty, betrayed him in secret—forming clandestine contact with the fallen King of Yue.
That broken monarch, swearing vengeance in his heart, began to scheme.
Slowly, deliberately, like the moves of a master at Go.
He gathered allies, seeking the fall of the tyrant.
Sleeping on firewood and tasting gall every morning to steel his resolve, he prepared for the day of reckoning.
When the Prince discovered the betrayal, he did not weep. He did not rage.
He merely… stood in silence.
Then he set fire to the inner palace, sealing the doors with black flame. He burned his wife and minister alive.
He cast out all scholars and sages.
Alone, he delved into the forbidden texts of the lost Xia Dynasty—ancient scrolls of soul-summoning sorcerers.
There, he read:
"To make the world kneel, first extinguish your heart.
To gain eternity, let darkness become your blood."
The Prince performed the ritual of Xianmo Tuihun (仙魔退魂)—
a rite that fused the immortal power of the Xian (celestials) with the profane magic of the Mo (demons).
Its price: ten thousand souls.
His flesh ceased to be mortal.
His face cracked like old porcelain. His eyes gleamed violet.
His form cloaked in shadows birthed from the underworld.
He became a creature known only as—
The Witch.
With unholy magic, he raised his fallen warriors, fashioning an undead army—the Shadow Legion of Wu.
The world teetered at the edge of darkness.
But the King of Yue, armed with resolve and ancestral blessing, forged a sacred blade from the Dragonbone of Mount Wudang—a sword that could seal away the soul itself.
Their battle raged for seven days and seven nights.
At the end, the Yue King drove the holy sword into the Witch King's heart.
The immortal tyrant laughed:
"You cannot kill me. But I shall wait for you in the dark, Goujian... And when the world forgets me, I shall rise again."
His body was drawn into the sword's light—
sealed for a thousand years.
WITCH HUNTER
PART 1
GOUJIAN SWORD