Jiang Ran wakes up one day to find that he has transmigrated into a martial arts world, but the jianghu is far more thrilling than he ever imagined.
Yan Weihuan: “No matter. This is a fight to the death, not a sparring match between martial artists. All of you, come at me together.”
Gao Fuji: “You've been defeated. Clear the way, find somewhere to treat your wounds, and you may yet have a chance to live.”
Yan Weihuan: “As long as I draw breath... no one shall pass!”
“The Way of Taiji Fist: movement divides, stillness unites. It can be soft or hard...” “Can what strength I have left move heaven and earth?”
“Ride the clouds and command the dragon!!!”
Bai Weiyi: “Twenty-four moves. That is the limit of my skill. Survive... or fall by my hand.”
Jiang Ran: “Grudges don't simply disappear, and true peace won't come just because one person or a few people die. Living isn't only for yourself. It's also a way to atone.”
King Huan of Yuanguo: “I'm confident that I'm no weaker than any expert you've ever faced.”
“Do you have the confidence to defeat me?”
Jiang Ran looked over the martial arts he had ‘painstakingly’ learned: Shangqing Wind and Cloud Art, Cloud Aspect Limitless, the Yijinjing, Five Spirits Heart Sutra, Everlasting Spring, the Unique Mirror of Spring and Autumn, the Bodhidharma Martial Canon...
“I don't know if I can defeat King Huan, but to me, the martial way is the way of humanity.”
“Why should I fear a million troops? The path I walk is not a lonely one.”
“I am not alone!”
Someone wrote a story I loved, but not in the way I hoped they would; someone else wrote in the way I wanted, but failed to tell the story I had hoped for.
“Rather than search through a hundred books for one that suits my tastes, wouldn't it be much quicker to write one myself?”
