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In the age of declining magic, energy flows through the heavens. My fist intent and my will are all Heaven’s will.
In the Song dynasty’s martial world, the lofty divine firmament reaches a million miles above the earth, thunder roaring across the nine heavens.
In the turbulent Tang dynasty, beauties are like jade. A leaf or flower can fly, and one sword strike can take a head.
Sun and moon shine bright; the bright moon reflects my heart. The human heart is like a sword, its edge challenging mountains and rivers.
The winds and clouds rise, stretching across ten thousand miles. Like a dream, like an illusion, misty and traceless.
In The Outcast, across a thousand autumns, the Thirty-Six Thieves: who will decide the fate of all?
In the mythic Qin dynasty, he becomes a Dao Master in his own right. The Nine Songs of the Heavens: he endures through a thousand autumns.
In the world of The Sword Snow Stride, human life is full of vicissitudes. Immortals from above descend into the mortal world.
Human will can overcome Heaven. Flowers bloom on the other shore. The eternal night draws near, and I am the god.
With martial might, I guard ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers. My Dao runs vast through the heavens.
I am Ye Qianqiu. From one Dao, a thousand autumns give rise to ten thousand Daos; I open the source of all Daos.
One leaf through a thousand autumns, one Dao across the heavens.
