This review may contain spoilers
Forbidden Love, Emotional Suppression, and a Man Who Fell First
đź“ť Review
(WARNING: Potential Spoilers — I’m Not Saving You from Any Emotional Damage)
Season 1 is where the emotional foundation is built—and where most of the enjoyment lies.
We begin, as many xianxia do, in the Heavenly Realm, where love is forbidden because apparently divinity requires emotional repression. (Every time a drama insists enlightenment equals heartlessness, I sigh. But without it, we wouldn’t have the story.)
This is very much a he fell first romance. The problem? He also knew the consequences.
So instead of confessing, he does what every Heavenly official with trauma and responsibility does—he buries it. He acts cold. Detached. Unfeeling. Which, of course, only makes everything worse.
Watching her misread his restraint as indifference is where the emotional frustration begins—but it’s also where the tragedy gains weight. When she ultimately leaps from the Bridge of Forgetfulness, setting off the chain of events that leads to her becoming a demon, the story shifts from quiet longing to full-blown fate-driven heartbreak.
In the mortal realm, she lives freely without her memories, while he later undergoes his own mortal trial and becomes a demon hunter. Their reunion carries the same dynamic: he loves her first, again—but this time she pushes him away relentlessly.
The romance here is compelling—but undeniably frustrating. For every pull from him, there’s a push from her. When he finally grows a backbone and chooses love regardless of consequence, it feels earned. Painfully earned.
Despite the emotional chaos, Season 1 works. The world-building, the slow unraveling of truth, and the mythology surrounding duty versus desire give the romance real stakes.
đź’ Final Mood
“Beautiful, angsty, and powered by a man who should have confessed sooner.”
(WARNING: Potential Spoilers — I’m Not Saving You from Any Emotional Damage)
Season 1 is where the emotional foundation is built—and where most of the enjoyment lies.
We begin, as many xianxia do, in the Heavenly Realm, where love is forbidden because apparently divinity requires emotional repression. (Every time a drama insists enlightenment equals heartlessness, I sigh. But without it, we wouldn’t have the story.)
This is very much a he fell first romance. The problem? He also knew the consequences.
So instead of confessing, he does what every Heavenly official with trauma and responsibility does—he buries it. He acts cold. Detached. Unfeeling. Which, of course, only makes everything worse.
Watching her misread his restraint as indifference is where the emotional frustration begins—but it’s also where the tragedy gains weight. When she ultimately leaps from the Bridge of Forgetfulness, setting off the chain of events that leads to her becoming a demon, the story shifts from quiet longing to full-blown fate-driven heartbreak.
In the mortal realm, she lives freely without her memories, while he later undergoes his own mortal trial and becomes a demon hunter. Their reunion carries the same dynamic: he loves her first, again—but this time she pushes him away relentlessly.
The romance here is compelling—but undeniably frustrating. For every pull from him, there’s a push from her. When he finally grows a backbone and chooses love regardless of consequence, it feels earned. Painfully earned.
Despite the emotional chaos, Season 1 works. The world-building, the slow unraveling of truth, and the mythology surrounding duty versus desire give the romance real stakes.
đź’ Final Mood
“Beautiful, angsty, and powered by a man who should have confessed sooner.”
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