The torrential rain poured down like a river from the heavens, battering the pitch-black Broken Dragon Cliff. Lin Mo carried his family’s old medicine basket on his back, his gaunt fingers digging desperately into the slick crevices in the rock. His nails split, and beads of blood seeped out. All he wanted was to gather a ten-year-old Bloodthread Vine in exchange for half a sack of coarse rice. Suddenly, the shrill cries of cultivators battling rang out overhead, and a bloodied figure wrapped in green light crashed into the ravine. The dying cultivator shoved half a jade slip into a hidden pocket in Lin Mo’s medicine basket. “...Primal Chaos... Five Elements... don’t show it to anyone...” The pursuers’ flying swords were already poised above him.
