Drawing My Blade from the Bottom Rung

The Great Sheng capital, the Zhenwu Academy. Ye Lin is the lowest of the servants, emptying chamber pots and scrubbing latrines. Anyone can kick him around. When an inner disciple steps on his face in front of everyone, he smiles, wipes away the blood, and enters that face into his ledger. Among his father's belongings is a damaged manual of saber techniques. On its first page are eight words: "Those who train with this saber must first cut off all paths to survival." He has severed his own tendons, crippled his arm, and endured hundreds of blows without uttering a sound. The academy follows the rules of martial artists: the strong wield the blade, and the weak await the slaughter. Ye Lin refuses to accept that. He draws his iron-blade saber. Starting tonight, no one will be allowed to live by trampling his dignity. He kills decisively and settles every debt. Step by step, he carves his way from the very bottom toward becoming a Martial God.