A slow-burning chronicle, let me tell it to you in gentle words: in a mysterious village beyond the world, a place of origins, he sets out on the path of cultivation for the sake of family.
As children, we always long to explore the mysteries of the cosmos and embody them ourselves. What began as a thought gathers karma and reincarnation; he meets a goddess and comes to know a transmigrator.
Rebirth and destruction are separated by a single thought. Along the road to tracing the cause, the affairs of the world, its love and hatred, its feuds and passions, surge on without end.
He cannot resist the words: “To die by my Field Lord Sword is the greatest honor of your life.”
The years return to the void, recording everything while drowning it all, until it vanishes among the stars and is seen no more.
I remember only that year, when peach blossoms stained the land blood-red.
Thoughts from all ages are threads of silk; countless threads become a line, the line becomes a cocoon, and from the cocoon a hundred flowers bloom.
Young Master Jiang, by the river, carries the Era of Ten Thousand Splendors to knock at the gates of the Heavenly Courts. Please, all you celestial courts, read and enjoy.
