Shen Ku, the son of a blacksmith in Qingshi Town, was born with a leaky dantian. The martial arts school declared that he would never progress beyond the third level of Qi Refining, and that he could not even make the lowest-ranked weapons list. All he could do was stare at a wooden post and practice the clumsiest sword form, the "Anchored Sword Stance," for ten years. Then one day, he fished a mud-encrusted, battered sword manual out of the river. It contained only half a page of writing: "A swordsman who fixes his gaze to the utmost can break all techniques." From that moment on, the boy at the third level of Qi Refining began challenging the world's weapons rankings. He did not climb the list. He tore it down. Every time he defeated a ranked prodigy, he toppled a statue, and the world's prestigious sects became his palanquin bearers. But with every page he turned in the manual, another bloody mark appeared on his palm. When he finally tore down the number-one spot on the weapons list, he discovered that his name had never appeared on it, because the list had been prepared for him all along. That tattered manual was nothing but an invitation someone had written a hundred years ago. And the signature at the bottom was unmistakably in his own hand.
