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The world does not have the rules of a temple, but it has its own temperament. The wind is rusty, mixed with the smell of iron and sweat, the wine is turbid, scalding the throat, and the color is like overnight blood congestion, and the road is always dusty or muddy. There are not many rules, but if you break them, the price is everything. There are some things you cannot say, some people you cannot touch, and some places you cannot enter. These lines are invisible, but they are more difficult to transgress than the official regulations. This is Jianghu. It's not romantic, it's dusty and sweaty.

Chen Jinghong, who was in his thirties, thought of abandoning literature and joining martial arts, but his spiritual frame was shattered by a palm in front of Linjiang Pavilion. The fortune teller concluded that he had no chance of martial arts in this life. After joining the Blood Knife Sect, Jing Wushe's appreciation turned out to be poisonous bait - just because he had a nine-point resemblance to Xuanyuan Changkong, the number one swordsman in the Central Plains, he became a stand-in for killing people with a borrowed knife. Use them up and drive them out of the door. While he was living in the world, Xuanyuan Changkong helped him repair his spiritual frame. From then on, he officially entered the martial arts, taking ginseng merchants, killing snake demons, and swallowing demon pills, and became famous as an abandoned disciple.