In the ninety-eighth thousandth year of the Primordial Era, autumn.
The Taixuan Dao Domain, the edge of the Northern Wasteland, the Azure Mist Sect.
Dusk was drawing near. The setting sun spilled blood-red light over the undulating barren hills, lending an even greater sense of desolation to this already impoverished land. The spiritual energy was so faint it could scarcely be felt. Now and then, the autumn wind swept up dust and a withered yellow leaf, spinning it into a ravine without a sound.
