No One Is Allowed To Lay Eyes On The Evil God’s Precious Beauty - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 – The Little Immortal Everyone’s Talking About Online

“Eating my food, living under my roof, and you’ve got the nerve to wear that miserable face all day—who the hell are you trying to guilt?!”

At noon in early autumn, in the old district of the city, a man’s coarse curses mixed with a child’s crying echoed through a dim, narrow alley. Within seconds, hurried footsteps sounded, and courtyard doors all around slammed shut one after another.

“Broad daylight again. That gambler’s drunk.”

“That poor girl… she’s still so young. What rotten luck, having a father like that.”

Scenes like this happened every few days. To the surrounding residents, it was nothing new. No one wanted trouble, so they shut their windows and pretended not to hear a thing.

At the same time, on the edge of the tallest rooftop nearby, a cloaked boy was dangling his legs in midair.

His features were exquisitely pretty, like a display figurine in a boutique. Warm golden sunlight lit up his long, thick lashes, and his clear, pale-blue eyes reflected the glowing screen of his phone.

His slender fingers tapped lightly.
“It’s here. The one crying—that girl is Chen Yaya.”

After he whispered his report, the collar of his cloak shifted slightly. A wisp of black mist slowly seeped out, gathering in the air and forming the narrow head of a snake.

“Mm.”
A low, ethereal voice sounded by his ear. Within the black mist, a pair of crimson eyes opened and looked toward the alley.

As they confirmed the target’s identity, the distant shouting grew more vicious, the man’s filthy curses intertwining with the girl’s sobs in a way that made the skin crawl.

Wu Yi grew anxious.
“Can we help her now?”

“Not yet.”

The cold voice carried a hint of rebuke. But when it saw the boy puff out his cheeks in silent frustration, it let out a soft sigh.

Wu Yi stopped speaking. He lowered his head, resting his pale, thin chin in his warm scarf, leaving only those clear blue eyes blinking slowly.

This kind of emotional energy could nourish Qingzhu’s body, replenishing some of the power he was gradually losing.

If it weren’t for the intense willpower erupting from this girl who had suffered long-term domestic abuse, they wouldn’t have come here at all. So even though Wu Yi burned with anger at the vile shouting, he could only wait quietly where he was.

The snake-shaped mist coiled around his shoulder, its head raised, crimson eyes glinting coldly in the sunlight.

Time ticked by. The crying in the distance grew more desperate. Wu Yi unconsciously clenched his fingers against the rooftop edge.

Then, with a dull impact, the sobbing stopped abruptly.

Wu Yi’s heart jolted. He finally couldn’t hold back and flipped off the rooftop. His boots touched down with a soft sound, the cloak arcing through the air before settling firmly on his shoulders.

“Wu Yi.”

Qingzhu called his name sharply.

The boy ignored him, panting as he ran out of the narrow stairwell.

Before Wu Yi could even think about how to deal with a burly man several times his size, the black mist above him suddenly transformed into a blue, glowing butterfly and flew straight toward the source of the noise.

“Stay.”

“……”

Wu Yi slowed his breathing, stomping his foot in irritation. Qingzhu’s timing was too perfect—he almost suspected the other was doing it on purpose just to watch him panic.

Pulling up the hood of his cloak, Wu Yi approached the courtyard. The surroundings fell into a frozen, deathlike stillness. The sounds of cooking and shouting that had filled the area moments before vanished, as though time itself had stopped.

Bang.

The man’s heavy body smashed into the stone wall, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

Wu Yi quickly backed out of the courtyard, worried the blood might splatter onto his brand-new boots.

Aside from him, the courtyard held only a small girl with bruised cheeks. She stood frozen, staring upward, her wide eyes filled with terror.

Seconds earlier, the man had raised a heavy bamboo chair to smash down on her. If Qingzhu had been even a moment slower, the one bleeding on the ground would have been her.

“Chen Du.”

The man forced himself upright, shaking his dizzy head until he could barely make out the scene. The drunken haze in his eyes slowly turned into fear as he scanned his surroundings in panic.

Aside from the sobbing little girl, there was no one there.

“Who’s playing tricks on me?! Don’t think I’m scared!”

The next instant, wind rushed in from all directions. Before he could react, his body was struck by something massive. He was flung into the air and slammed into the rotting wooden door.

He hit the ground hard. Wrapped in bone-chilling terror, his head lolled—and he lost consciousness.

The courtyard fell into dead silence.

Wu Yi peeked in, about to step forward, when the distant wail of an ambulance siren returned along with the noise of the neighborhood.

The frozen space quietly resumed normalcy. From the cramped apartment windows came the familiar sounds of cooking and scolding children, as though the halted time had all been an illusion.

Footsteps approached from the mouth of the alley.

The black mist reformed into a slender little snake and coiled on Wu Yi’s shoulder. Without needing to be told, Wu Yi turned and left in the opposite direction.

As he ran, the cloak fluttered, revealing its crimson lining.

A cold voice spoke near his ear.
“You called too early.”

“I was worried she’d be seriously hurt…” Wu Yi pouted. Feeling the chill radiating from Qingzhu, he didn’t argue further.

He hurried out of the alley, tugged off his cloak, and hugged it to his chest. Looking back at the crowded lane, the image of the little girl’s tear-streaked face surfaced in his mind. He couldn’t help squeezing the item he hadn’t yet delivered.

“So what now?”

“Go wait at the hospital.”

…

Chen Du regained consciousness to find his hands cuffed as he was shoved into a police car. His chest throbbed with unbearable pain, as if it had been struck repeatedly.

Blood streamed from his nose. His front teeth ached, trembling as if about to fall out.

Dazed, he watched through the window as his daughter was loaded into an ambulance. Panic surged—but by the time the car rocked its way to the station, he calmed down.

Domestic violence was a family matter. What was there to fear? At worst, he’d get lectured like before. It wasn’t his first time.

He cursed the bastard who had attacked him while he was drunk—playing at ghosts and gods, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Once he got home, he’d find that person and settle it.

In the interrogation room, Chen Du put on a show of remorse, blaming everything on alcohol and crying as he swore he’d never do it again.

But no matter how hard he slapped his own face, the interrogating officer remained expressionless. After sternly ordering him to calm down, the officer turned the monitor toward him and played several surveillance clips.

“Last week, you organized a large gambling operation at 34 Bei’an Road. Last month, the Fuyuan Mahjong Hall—you’re one of the partners.”

Chen Du froze, like cold water dumped over his head. Watching himself in the footage laughing and handing out chips, his body began to shake uncontrollably.

“O-Officer… is that illegal? I’m not going to jail, am I?”

“Repeated large-scale gambling operations and running an illegal casino. What do you think?”

Fear finally hit him full force. With charge after charge laid bare, there was no room left to argue.

The footage kept playing. Onscreen, his face was flushed with excitement—probably thinking about buying good liquor later and forcing that damn girl at home to make snacks.

Offscreen, he sat handcuffed and humiliated.

The fake tears he’d shed earlier became real, mixing with bloodstains on his old T-shirt.

…

Hospital.

After her examination, Chen Yaya lay in bed and honestly told the policewoman about her father’s gambling. But when asked about what happened today, she suddenly fell silent.

“Miss… I don’t know what happened. Dad was going to hit me with a chair because I came home late buying peanuts. Then he suddenly collapsed and wouldn’t wake up. And then… you came.”

The officer frowned.
“Did you see anyone else? Did anyone stop him?”

“No.” The girl shook her head obediently. “Auntie Liu upstairs and Grandma Meng tried to stop him earlier. Dad almost pushed Grandma Meng down, so after that, no one dared come.”

The officer was momentarily speechless.

The girl’s eyes were clear and innocent. Suddenly, they lit up.

“Oh! I saw a blue butterfly! It was really pretty. As soon as it flew over, Dad fainted.”

A butterfly?

Before long, the medication took effect, and Chen Yaya fell into deep sleep.

The officer tucked her in and quietly left the room.

A colleague waiting outside signaled her. “How was it?”

“She didn’t see anyone. Just talked about some butterfly,” the officer said with a helpless smile. “Poor thing—probably hallucinating.”

“But Chen Du’s covered in injuries,” the colleague said. “Two broken ribs.”

“No cameras caught anyone nearby. It can’t have been a ten-year-old child, right?”

“…True. Hey, could it be that so-called ‘little immortal’ that’s been trending online? They say it wanders around Yun Jing.”

The officer laughed. “You’re believing superstitions now? It’s all clickbait.”

“But the posts sound pretty convincing…”

Their footsteps faded away.

Chen Yaya slept uneasily, pain and fever blurring her consciousness. In her dreams, her father’s twisted face loomed again.

Some time later, the ward door opened softly, and a figure slipped inside.

Wu Yi let out a breath of relief. He approached the bed and, seeing the girl’s restless expression, lifted the blanket and tucked a fluffy little rabbit into her arms.

Gradually, her furrowed brow relaxed.

For someone so young to produce such powerful will—it meant she’d suffered a great deal.

Wu Yi tucked her in carefully.

“Will she be happier from now on?”

The little snake slid from his shoulder to his wrist. In the dim room, its crimson eyes glowed faintly. A soft light rose from the toy and slipped into Chen Yaya’s body, dissolving all pain.

“She will.”

Powerful will could nourish Qingzhu’s soul, but waiting until someone was pushed to the brink wasn’t a test—it was a necessity. If Chen Yaya didn’t want to save herself, even Qingzhu’s help would be limited.

They could help for a moment, but changing fate ultimately depended on her.

The rabbit glowed warmly, dispelling the cold haze around her.

In her dream, her father loomed like a monster—but before his fist could fall, warm light dissolved him.

Darkness receded.

She slowly opened her eyes. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, sunset light filling the room with warmth.

Her fingers brushed against the soft toy in her arms.

A vague image surfaced in her mind—a slender figure beneath a cloak, face indistinct, surrounded by black mist and a dangerous aura.

Then, like sand slipping through her fingers, the memory vanished.

…

Night fell as Wu Yi walked home, pulling his coat tight.

The black mist had gathered into a small band around his wrist, like a fine black jade bracelet.

“Do you feel better after absorbing her will?”

“Mm.”

“If Chen Du goes to prison, will she go to a welfare home?”

“Mm.”

“That’s so sad…”

Wu Yi lowered his gaze. He’d grown up in an orphanage himself and knew that loneliness well. He sighed, then realized Qingzhu hadn’t spoken for a long time.

He missed when Qingzhu talked more. Years ago, when Qingzhu was healthier, he would take human form and stay up all night tutoring him.

Now, Wu Yi could barely remember what that human form looked like—only that it had been tall and imposing, enough to make his younger self too nervous to look directly.

A thought stirred.

He touched the cold bracelet on his wrist.

He really wanted to see what Qingzhu looked like now.