With a sword in hand, I roam the martial world, wine in tow; a slender waist from Chu, light as a feather in my palm.

A young man shoulders a long blade, wine gourd at his waist, striding forward boldly, yet the martial world in his heart remains faint and elusive.

Turn a page in the Book of Chaos, and decades of rain fall upon the night of the jianghu.

Suddenly looking back, the mortal world has already been cleaved asunder.