The storyteller spins tales of days gone by, of dragons seized from the heavens.
Each time he tells a story, one of its characters appears at his side as a protector. Sounds invincible, doesn’t it?
Li Zhen doesn’t think so. A great hero’s spear can churn rivers and seas, but it can’t overcome the three words “hunger, cold, and poverty.” Having just transmigrated to the Sui Dynasty, all he wants is to use his storytelling skills to survive the bitter winter.
Storytelling is all about setting up a mystery. But as he keeps doing it, he finds his popularity inexplicably dwindling. And as he keeps spinning tales, he somehow becomes the greatest under heaven.
The jianghu’s endless tales of love and vengeance,
inked with the absurd words of scholars.
A thousand years of ambition flow east,
while carefree freedom is hard to find beyond the heavens.
In dreams, I know not the river’s sorrow;
tonight, I wake at the fifth watch, chilled to the bone.
Fool that I am, I cannot find the path to immortality.
So I tell stories, sing opera, and write poetry, all at ease, with a drink in hand!
“If that bull-nosed storyteller keeps setting up mysteries without resolving them, all under heaven may kill him! Hang his head above the city gate, and I’ll drink three cups with him.”, Li Er
“Of all the talent under heaven, the bull-nosed fellow has it all. The rest of the world is short by two shares...”, Fang Xuanling
“Do you think I wanted to be a sect leader? If I hadn’t been utterly unable to break that bastard’s Golden Light Spell, my grandson would already know how to tell stories!”, A certain female sect leader
