The Path of Severed Life

The martial world is like rain, its grudges like blades. No matter how sharp a blade, it cannot cut through the endless drizzle. There's the old beggar who loves to brag, picks his nose, and always claims to be a master; the old monk with a crippled right leg and a stern, scowling face; the foul-smelling old Taoist with a goatee, a peachwood sword on his back, and a habit of drinking and sleeping in; and the shameless fortune-teller with a quick-witted granddaughter, both experts at cheating and swindling. They are the fading glow of the old martial world. Then there are the young man who loves listening to stories, the immortal beauty dressed in green, the chubby young monk sneaking a peek at forbidden books, and the scion of a noble family tinkering with ingenious devices... They are the vibrant panorama of the new martial world. The martial world and the imperial court are sick of one another; the martial world never grows old, and the human heart never dies.