Everyone says cultivating immortality brings freedom and ease, but they don't see that some people drink wine in lofty towers while others wait to die in the dust.
Xuan Yixiao only wants to live a little longer. Why is that so hard?
Yu just loves someone. That love, so humble it sinks into the dust, is that right?
In this life, some would protect their own at any cost, while others are as lowly as dust.
Can the sword in Xiao Ling's hand cut through the mist that blankets the world,
or has Fei Ye's game already marked everyone as prey?
And the real chessboard...
Perhaps even they have yet to notice:
The one moving the pieces
has yet to make a move.
