I Have Been Practicing in Tianlao for Thirty Years

In the last years of the Qian Dynasty, demons cannibalized people and filth was hidden in the court. The Immortal Sect sat high on the mountain and looked down at the world with cold eyes. Yan Xing was just an executioner at the bottom of the Tianlao No. D in the capital. What they do every day is nothing more than checking names, cleaning knives, holding heads, and beheadings. According to the rules, batch after batch of condemned prisoners are sent on the road at three quarters of noon. I thought that this life was just about spending thirty years in this blood well, saving up enough scraps of silver, leaving the prison, going to Jiangnan to buy two acres of thin farmland, and living like an ordinary person. Until the ancestral Ghost Head Sword began to kill more and more, until the blood-stained human skin ancient record could peel off all the energy, will, sword intention and even the soul of the death row prisoner who had spent his life practicing hard, and turned it into the purest power and poured it into his bones and blood. From then on, other people broke into seclusion, and the punishment of hell only waited for three quarters of noon. Others have studied the Dharma and understood the Tao, and Yan Xing only cares about whether the knife is heavy enough, whether the bone is hard enough, and whether the neck can be severed or not. Bandits, little monsters, gangsters, frontier army prisoners on death row, sect abandoned disciples, court dignitaries... All the dirty things that were buried eventually flowed down this prison and ended up under his knife. If there is no justice in this world, Then he raised his sword from the depths of the prison and re-determined the punishment for this troubled world.