A chill sword flashes in a brilliant arc, while seven strings pluck half a tune of sorrow.
Some wade through blood and heaps of corpses; others seek the fragrance of plum blossoms in peaceful, carefree leisure.
Whether a ruler with thousands of followers, an unknown nobody, or merely a grubby little flower seller by the roadside, who can know the tangled past behind them?
The jianghu has stirred countless hearts and broken just as many. A chaotic tale, paid for in blood and tears, joy and sorrow. The scattered memories drifting past where the long wind dies away have become a lament, commemorating the many splendors of this age.
[Don't ask why the bonus chapters came out before the main story _(:3"∠)_]
Condensing fire, condensing fire, I am splashing water