The day my senior sister died, the snow was falling hard.
She was the favored genius of the Qingyun Sect. I was the useless servant she'd taken in, a man without even a spiritual root.
The sect said I was mistaken about the sword intent that pierced her from behind.
For three years, the only reason I stayed alive was to wait for this rusted sword to be drawn again.
Tonight, the wind and snow are just as they were then.
The old monster inside the sword has awakened. He says this blade slew a god three hundred years ago, and that the one who can wield it has never been a favored genius.
It is someone rejected by heaven and earth, someone without roots.
Senior Sister.
You said every road in this world is made by those who walk it.
Then I'll walk a road no one has ever taken:
A mortal's body. A god-slaying sword.
This time, I'll protect you.
