Bilibili has become a hub for high-quality Chinese animation, offering diverse genres and fresh storytelling. This list highlights standout titles that resonate with both casual viewers and anime enthusiasts, prioritizing engaging plots and unique styles over abstract praise.
The Outcast 一人之下
The Outcast (2016-present) is a Chinese animated series blending urban fantasy, dark comedy, and martial arts. With 5 seasons so far, it follows Zhang Chulan, a college student dragged into the hidden world of "Heteromorphs"—people with supernatural abilities—after his estranged grandfather’s death. Teaming up with the enigmatic, deadpan Feng Baby (who wields kitchen knives and an immortal past), he uncovers family secrets while dodging rival factions seeking ancient power.
The show stands out for balancing gritty action with quirky humor. Fight scenes mix traditional Chinese martial arts (like Baguazhang) with creative superpowers—a villain manipulates chess pieces as weapons; another controls paper. The animation, while not ultra-polished, delivers kinetic choreography and distinct character designs, especially in later seasons.
Character dynamics drive the story. Zhang Chulan evolves from a cynical slacker to a cunning strategist, using wit rather than brute strength. Feng Baby’s emotionless demeanor hides tragic depth, and villains like the scheming Wang Ye feel layered—driven by ambition, not pure evil. Pacing can be uneven (some arcs drag), but the mystery around the "Immortal Life" cult and the Eight Wonders keeps tension high.
Watch it if: You enjoy supernatural battles with a grounded, modern twist, or like morally gray characters. Skip if: You dislike dark comedy or slower world-building. Pro tip: Start with Season 3 for tighter storytelling, then backtrack if hooked. At 15-20 mins per episode, it’s a binge-friendly gateway into China’s darker, edgier animation scene.
Scissor Seven 刺客伍六七
Scissor Seven 刺客伍六七
Scissor Seven (2018–present) is a Chinese animated series blending absurd comedy, martial arts, and heartfelt storytelling. The show follows Wu Liuqi (a.k.a. Seven), a forgetful, low-ranked assassin who moonlights as a hairdresser on a quirky island. After being rescued from amnesia by his talking chicken mentor Ji Daba, Seven takes on bizarre assassination gigs—like sabotaging a rockstar dog’s concert or stopping an underwear collector—but always ends up resolving conflicts through empathy rather than violence.
The series thrives on its offbeat humor and creative action. Seven’s weapon of choice is a pair of scissors, which he uses for both haircuts and chaotic battles, aided by Ji Daba’s gag gadgets like the gaiba egg (a shape-shifting tool) and flying chicken escape pod69. Fight scenes are fast-paced and inventive, mixing slapstick with wuxia-inspired choreography—think a comedic Kill Bill with a Cantonese flair.
Character dynamics drive the charm. Seven’s goofy, kind-hearted persona contrasts with his past as "Seven," a legendary assassin cloaked in mystery. His rivalry-turned-romance with Plum Blossom Thirteen, a no-nonsense scissor, adds tension and wit, while side characters like the invincible bodyguard He Dachun deliver laugh-out-loud moments.
The show’s short episodes (10–15 minutes) make it binge-friendly. Early seasons focus on episodic hijinks, but later arcs delve into Seven’s dark past and the clash between tech-driven Stan Kingdom and martial arts-centric Xuanwu Nation.
Watch it if: You enjoy underdog stories with heart, absurd humor (similar to One-Punch Man), or creative martial arts. Skip if: You prefer serious, plot-heavy narratives. Pro tip: The Cantonese dub enhances the show’s Hong Kong-style comedy vibe.
With 5 seasons and a 9.8/10 Bilibili rating, Scissor Seven proves that low-stakes storytelling and endearing flaws can outshine flashy spectacles. A must-watch for anime fans craving something fresh and funny.
Yao-Chinese Folktales 中国奇谭
Yao-Chinese Folktales 中国奇谭
Yao-Chinese Folktales (2023), an eight-episode anthology by Shanghai Animation Film Studio and Bilibili, redefines the boundaries of animation by weaving ancient folklore, modern anxieties, and avant-garde artistry into a mesmerizing tapestry. Each standalone short, spanning genres from dark comedy to surreal horror, pays homage to China’s rich storytelling traditions while boldly reimagining them for contemporary audiences.
The anthology’s standout, A Summer’s End, reinterprets Journey to the West through the eyes of a low-level pig demon trapped in a soul-crushing corporate hierarchy. His Sisyphean tasks—collecting firewood for a tyrannical wolf boss, scrubbing bloodstained armor—mirror modern workplace disillusionment, culminating in a heart-wrenching twist where his sacrifice is erased from history. This blend of slapstick humor and existential dread struck a chord, trending on Chinese social media as a viral allegory for generational burnout.
Equally compelling is Goose Mountain, a dialogue-free adaptation of a 5th-century love story. Rendered in stark black-and-white ink wash, it follows a merchant ensnared in a shapeshifting romance with a fox spirit and a mysterious maiden. The visual language—rippling brushstrokes morphing into claws, splatters of ink symbolizing violence—evokes both classical scrolls and Gothic horror. Meanwhile, The Bus to the Afterlife juxtaposes rural decay with childhood nostalgia, as an elderly woman boards a spectral vehicle to reunite with vanishing village myths. Its ethereal watercolor landscapes and haunting score underscore themes of cultural erosion and mortality.
Craftsmanship as Rebellion
The series revives Shanghai Animation’s legacy (honed in classics like Legend of the Demon Cat) through painstaking craftsmanship. One episode required eight hours per frame to replicate the texture of hand-torn paper; another combined 3D modeling with traditional paper-cutting to animate a sentient river. Such techniques bridge eras—digitally enhanced ink blooms coexist with AI-generated textures—but never overshadow the human touch.
Rated 9.6/10 on Douban, Yao-Chinese Folktales has been hailed as a spiritual successor to Studio Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke in its environmentalist themes, yet its focus on uniquely Chinese experiences—urban alienation, fading rural traditions—sets it apart. While some critics note uneven pacing in abstract episodes like The Winged Man, the anthology’s emotional resonance is undeniable.
Perfect for fans of Love, Death & Robots or The Animatrix, this series offers bite-sized narratives bursting with creativity. Each 15–20-minute episode is a self-contained universe: start with A Summer’s End for its accessibility, then dive into Goose Mountain’s visual poetry. Avoid if you crave linear plots—here, ambiguity is the point.
In an age of algorithmic content, Yao-Chinese Folktales is a defiant celebration of animation as art. It proves that even in a digitized world, the oldest stories—and the hands that craft them—still hold magic.
Heaven Official’s Blessing 天官赐福
Heaven Official’s Blessing 天官赐福
Heaven Official’s Blessing is a 2020 donghua adaptation of Mo Xiang Tong Xiu’s novel, blending ethereal visuals with a deeply emotional narrative. The story follows Xie Lian, a once-revered god who has fallen from grace and now scrapes by as a mortal, collecting scraps and solving supernatural mysteries to earn merit for his third ascension to heaven. His path intertwines with Hua Cheng, a mysterious ghost king whose unwavering loyalty hides a centuries-old connection to Xie Lian.
The animation’s strength lies in its delicate balance of humor and melancholy. Xie Lian’s gentle resilience contrasts with his tragic past—once a beloved prince, he endured betrayal, exile, and the collapse of his kingdom, yet retains his belief in kindness. Hua Cheng, portrayed with striking red attire and silver butterflies, embodies devotion, having spent 800 years protecting Xie Lian from the shadows. Their relationship evolves through subtle gestures: Hua Cheng’s silent acts of support, Xie Lian’s growing trust, and shared moments like walking under a shared umbrella in a ghostly rain—a scene fans hail as iconic.
Visually, the donghua excels with traditional Chinese aesthetics. Scenes like Xie Lian’s "Divine Martial Parade" incorporate nuo dance rituals and intricate embroidery, while ghostly realms blend ink-wash landscapes with vivid crimson accents. The soundtrack, featuring guqin and pipa, enhances the ethereal atmosphere.
Beyond romance, the story explores moral ambiguity. Xie Lian’s journey questions the cost of idealism, while side arcs—like the ghost bridegroom mystery—reveal societal greed and human frailty. The donghua also bridges modern and traditional culture through initiatives like museum collaborations, where fans explored real-world artifacts tied to the story, boosting interest in heritage preservation.
With its lush animation, layered characters, and themes of enduring hope, Heaven Official’s Blessing is a standout in Chinese fantasy. It’s a tale not just of gods and ghosts, but of how kindness persists even in ruin—a message resonating deeply in today’s world.
Fog Hill of Five Elements 雾山五行
Fog Hill of Five Elements 雾山五行
Fog Hill of Five Elements is a 3-episode Chinese animated action series. The story is straightforward: in a world where humans and mythical beasts exist, warriors control the five elements (fire, water, wood, metal, earth) to guard a sealed demon. When a thief steals a magical item linked to the demon, fire warrior Xin Yan is forced to fight both enemies and his own past.
The show’s strength is its animation. Fight scenes are fast, creative, and packed with detail. Characters move with weight and speed, using elemental powers in clever ways—like turning water into ice blades or summoning flaming chains. The art style mixes bold ink-brush backgrounds with sharp, dynamic character designs. You can tell the small team (only 6 main animators) poured effort into every frame.
Plot-wise, it’s simple but effective. Xin Yan’s motivation—protecting his village while hiding a personal secret—keeps the story grounded. Villains aren’t just "evil"; they have clear goals, like a mother trying to save her cursed child. The short runtime means no filler, though some side characters feel underdeveloped.
Watch it if: You want intense martial arts action, or appreciate hand-drawn animation. Skip it if: You prefer deep world-building or dialogue-heavy stories. Note: With only 3 episodes (40 mins total), it’s more a proof-of-concept than a complete series, but the final battle alone is worth your time.
The Ravages of Time火凤燎原
The Ravages of Time火凤燎原
Adapted from a critically acclaimed manga (2001–present), The Ravages of Time reimagines China’s Three Kingdoms era (220–280 CE) as a labyrinth of Machiavellian schemes. Gone are the romanticized heroes of Dynasty Warriors; here, warlords and strategists are pawns in a grand game of survival, where deception trumps valor.
The story orbits Sima Yi, a brilliant but morally ambiguous tactician who allies with tyrants to accelerate China’s unification, believing prolonged warfare breeds greater suffering. His partnership with Liao Hua, a near-invincible assassin devoid of pain receptors, blurs the line between loyalty and exploitation. Meanwhile, Xiao Meng—a cross-dressing spy posing as the legendary beauty Diaochan—embodies the series’ fixation with identity and sacrifice. Her tragic arc, intertwined with political assassinations and betrayal, fuels pivotal twists that upend historical expectations.
Style & Themes
The 3D animation mirrors the manga’s ink-washed aesthetic, with chiaroscuro lighting and claustrophobic framing heightening the tension. Combat scenes prioritize psychological stakes over spectacle: a duel between generals is resolved not through swordplay but poisoned tea, while battles often conclude with reveals that entire conflicts were staged to manipulate perceptions. The narrative thrives on subversion—minor characters outwit revered legends, and "deaths" are frequently elaborate ruses. Sima Yi’s rivalry with Zhuge Liang, often portrayed in lore as a clash of geniuses, becomes a philosophical debate: Sima’s ruthless pragmatism ("winning without fighting") contrasts Zhuge’s idealistic adherence to "honorable" warfare.
Audience Considerations
Fans of Kingdom’s political intrigue or Legend of the Galactic Heroes’ gray morality will relish the cerebral pacing. However, the 16-episode first season condenses the manga’s dense early arcs, sacrificing historical nuance for momentum. Purists may bristle at creative liberties (e.g., Diaochan’s reinvention), but the series excels as a character study of ambition and moral decay.
Three-Body Animation 三体
Three-Body Animation 三体
Produced by Bilibili and YHKT Entertainment, Three-Body Animation ambitiously adapts Liu Cixin’s Hugo Award-winning novel, The Three-Body Problem. Set against humanity’s first contact with the Trisolarans—a hostile alien civilization fleeing their dying planet—the series grapples with existential dread and cosmic-scale ethics.
The story spans centuries, but the animation focuses on key arcs: the Wallfacer Project, where four individuals devise secret strategies to counter the Trisolaran invasion, and the Doomsday Battle, a catastrophic space confrontation. Protagonist Luo Ji, a disillusioned sociologist turned savior, embodies the series’ bleak pragmatism. His transformation from apathetic academic to humanity’s reluctant strategist underscores the narrative’s core question: Is survival worth moral compromise?
The CGI-heavy animation shines in grand set pieces: nanomaterial filaments slicing through warships like paper, and the ethereal, fourth-dimensional "Sophon" entities that surveil Earth with chilling precision. These visuals, though polarizing for their hyper-realistic yet stylized approach, capture the novel’s awe and terror. Philosophically, the series retains Liu’s exploration of the Dark Forest Theory—a cosmic survival doctrine where civilizations preemptively destroy potential threats.
However, pacing stumbles in early episodes, rushing through Ye Wenjie’s pivotal backstory (her betrayal of humanity post-Cultural Revolution) and the Trisolarans’ virtual-world buildup. Secondary characters, like the idealistic Zhang Beihai, lack development, diluting emotional impact.
This is hard sci-fi at its most unflinching—ideal for fans of Ghost in the Shell’s cyberpunk existentialism or Interstellar’s cosmic scale. However, newcomers may find the dense terminology (e.g., "proton unfolding") and nonlinear storytelling daunting. While the animation takes creative liberties, it distills the novel’s essence, making it a compelling primer before Netflix’s live-action adaptation.
Zhenhun Street 镇魂街
Zhenhun Street 镇魂街
For fans of Ling Cage: Incarnation seeking another bold Chinese animated series, Zhenhun Street (2016–present) offers a thrilling fusion of urban fantasy, historical lore, and pulse-pounding action. Set in a world where ancient spirits collide with modern life, the story centers on Cao Yanxiang, a fiery-tempered deliveryman who inherits the role of Guardian of "Zhenhun Street"—a hidden realm where vengeful ghosts threaten humanity. Alongside his stoic warrior brother, Cao Yanbing, and their ancestral guardian spirits (manifested from legendary Chinese generals), Cao Yanxiang battles supernatural forces while unraveling mysteries tied to his family’s tragic past.
The series shines in its inventive fight choreography, blending traditional wuxia-inspired martial arts with explosive fantasy elements. Guardians like Xu Chu, a fiery phoenix-wielding general, and Yan Liang, an ice dragon-summoning titan, clash in battles that crackle with elemental fury. These sequences pay homage to Chinese history while embracing creative liberties, such as reimagining the Three Kingdoms-era rivals as spectral allies. Season 1’s dual narrative structure—juxtaposing Cao Yanxiang’s childhood trauma (his mother’s death, his brother’s sacrifice) with his adult struggles—deepens emotional stakes, transforming flashbacks into poignant counterpoints to present-day chaos.
Drawbacks and Redemption
While early seasons suffer from inconsistent animation quality—stiff character movements and flat backgrounds detract from key scenes—the 2023 reboot Zhenhun Street: Northern Lights addresses these flaws. With polished CGI, tighter pacing, and richer character development, the reboot revitalizes the franchise. It also expands the lore, introducing new guardians like the thunder-wielding Dian Wei and delving deeper into the Cao brothers’ fractured dynamic.
Zhenhun Street caters to fans of Demon Slayer’s high-octane battles and Naruto’s bond-driven narratives, but its grounding in Chinese mythology sets it apart. Themes of brotherhood, legacy, and redemption resonate across its arcs, while its modern-day setting—where spirits haunt subway stations and ancient warriors wield smartphones—adds quirky charm. The series doesn’t shy from darker moments, such as Cao Yanbing’s morally gray choices to protect his brother, but balances them with humor and heart.
For newcomers, Northern Lights serves as an accessible entry point, though purists may prefer the original’s raw ambition. Either way, Zhenhun Street proves Chinese animation can rival global hits by honoring its cultural roots while embracing genre innovation—a must-watch for fantasy enthusiasts craving mythic stakes with a contemporary twist.
Ling Cage: Incarnation 灵笼
Ling Cage: Incarnation 灵笼
Set against the stark backdrop of a ruined Earth, Ling Cage: Incarnation (2019–2021) reimagines post-apocalyptic storytelling through a lens of visceral action and existential inquiry. The series, produced by YHKT Entertainment, unfolds in a world ravaged by ecological collapse, where humanity clings to survival in floating cities known as "Ling Cages" (or "Lighthouses"). These metallic fortresses enforce a brutal caste system: genetically enhanced "Upper Citizens" monopolize resources and authority, while "Dust Citizens" endure lives of servitude, stripped of basic rights like emotional bonds and reproduction. This dystopian hierarchy mirrors the moral decay of a civilization teetering on extinction.
World-Building: Desperation and Dualities
The Earth’s surface, overrun by bioengineered horrors called "Morphling Beasts," serves as both graveyard and battleground. These creatures, capable of regenerating from injuries and emitting energy pulses tied to human consciousness, symbolize nature’s twisted reclamation. Protagonist Mark, a battle-hardened captain of the "Hunting Grounds" scavenger team, navigates this lethal terrain to secure supplies for the Lighthouse. His journey takes a transformative turn when he becomes infected by a parasitic "Spine Worm," triggering a metamorphosis that blurs the line between human and monster. A pivotal scene involving traditional Chinese cupping therapy—administered by ground survivor Bai Yuekui—highlights the series’ fusion of sci-fi spectacle and cultural heritage, offering a lifeline to Mark’s humanity.
Moral Complexity: Survival vs. Sacrifice
The narrative thrives on ethical ambiguity. Lighthouse leaders enforce draconian "Three Survival Laws," justifying emotional suppression and eugenics as necessary evils. In contrast, surface survivors embrace an "ecological symbiosis" philosophy, coexisting with Morphling Beasts through ancient wisdom. This ideological clash crystallizes in Mark’s arc: once a loyal enforcer of the Lighthouse regime, he evolves into a revolutionary figure who dismantles the system, embracing empathy over cold pragmatism. Characters like Governor Morgan, who weaponizes tyranny to preserve humanity’s remnants, and the manipulative priest Charles, who exploits religion for power, embody the series’ refusal to categorize individuals as purely heroic or villainous.
The animation blends 3D character models with 2D environmental textures, creating a stark visual contrast between the Lighthouse’s sterile machinery and the organic grotesquerie of the wasteland. Morphling Beasts, rendered as fluid, pulsating entities, deliver chilling body horror, though some CGI backdrops lack depth. Action sequences, however, are visceral triumphs, with Mark’s battles against monsters and human foes alike showcasing meticulous choreography.
Fans of The Last of Us or Attack on Titan will appreciate the series’ unflinching portrayal of societal collapse and moral decay. Its exploration of themes like collective survival and individual agency resonates with philosophical depth, akin to Ghost in the Shell. Yet Ling Cage is not for the faint-hearted: graphic body horror (think writhing parasites and mutating flesh) and a slow-burn narrative demand patience.
In its audacious storytelling and technical ambition, Ling Cage: Incarnation redefines apocalyptic fiction, proving that even in humanity’s darkest hour, resilience and compassion might yet light the way.
Bilibili's catalog keeps expanding, but these titles offer a solid starting point. Skip overly hyped series—stick to ones that prioritize storytelling craft over empty spectacle.
