The rain fell like shattered glass upon the stone streets of Qinghe Town.
Li Yun stood alone beneath a flickering lantern, his clothes torn, blood mixing with rainwater at his feet. In his trembling hand lay a sword—its blade snapped in half. This sword had once belonged to his father, Li Zheng, a righteous swordsman of the Jianghu, known for his unyielding sense of justice.
Tonight, that justice had died.
Just hours earlier, masked men bearing the insignia of the Black Crane Sect had descended upon their home. There was no warning, no mercy. Fire. Steel. Screams. His father's final words still echoed in Li Yun's ears:
"The Jade Blade Manual… never let it fall into darkness."
Li Yun clenched his fists. The Jianghu—the martial world spoken of in legends—was not the realm of honor he had dreamed of. It was a place of betrayal, ambition, and blood.
As thunder roared overhead, Li Yun knelt and pressed the broken sword into the earth.
"I swear," he whispered, voice shaking yet resolute,
"by this broken blade and my father's blood—
I will walk the Jianghu, master the martial path,
and tear down the Black Crane Sect… even if the heavens stand in my way."
At that moment, high atop the mist-covered cliffs beyond the town, an old man in tattered robes opened his eyes.
"The wheel of fate turns once more," the old master murmured.
"A dragon awakens from the mud."
And thus, the Jianghu gained a new name—
one it would fear…
one it would hunt…
and one that would one day stand at the peak, blade raised against the heavens.