White Hair, Power, and a Blade to Cleanse the Mortal World

Zhang Cuishan pointed his sword at his own heart. At the critical moment, a purple figure shot through the air. A wild goose-feather saber scraped the ground, and a white-haired old man stood before the Zhenwu Hall: “Today, within Wudang Mountain, not a soul will be left alive except the members of the Wudang Sect.”