The Tang dynasty nears its end, with flames of war raging across the land. In fifty years, five dynasties rise and fall, while ten kingdoms stand side by side. Emperors are as expendable as weeds, and commoners as insignificant as ants.
In this age of chaos, the realm lies in ruins, and the bloody rain never lets up. At court, powerful ministers usurp the throne; across the martial world, blades clash. Some take up their swords to protect a corner of peace, some cast aside every last scruple just to survive, and others watch with cold eyes, waiting for the winds to shift.
The bamboo annals record only the rise and fall of emperors, never the blood shadows beneath their blades. The true history of the martial world is written on the edge of a sword and carved among the bones of the dead.
This is an age when heroes contend for supremacy and loyalty means nothing.
This is a martial world where survival comes at the edge of a blade.
The realm lies in ruins, but the blood still burns.
