From the riverside of Nanping Mountain to the ice fields of Kunlun, the scenery that has remained unchanged for thousands of years cannot conceal the bloody battle between the two alliances. Time may be able to erase all grudges, but it can never heal the scars in the heart. Twenty years have passed in a hurry. Shen Zimo, who lives alone in Luoxing Lake, like many Wanhua disciples of his generation, has taken over the affairs of the Huagu Xinglin lineage for many years. Time seems to have left no trace on the body of this wonderful doctor, except for that full head of silver hair... Every Hungry Ghost Festival, Shen Zimo would always put a harp and a game of chess on the piano table, prepare several pots of good wine, and several plates of cakes, and sit there all day without allowing anyone to disturb him until dawn the next day. Among the younger generation of disciples, no one knows the reason. They only know that this is the unchanging rule of the Xinglin lineage... The emperor Zhenlong is still here today, and the maple leaves are red in autumn; holding black and white in hand, he plays alone, and there is no one to play with him.