all that can be seen is simmering pure white, reflecting nothing but blinding light a porcelain toilet falling from 3 stories of height. Why, how? It isn't important for any object porcelain or not such speed and weight can reduce any man's might to nought, the journey of a man means nothing if his end is death by toilet, dignity, respect and bravery shattered along with deadly porcelain white.

"A toilet, A TOILET" a crescendo, one of misery and despair sung from a broken home made of wood and weed, dilapidated and empty if it wernt for our hero now known as shing shong filling it with nothing but embarrassing existence. Yes a man whose death shall no longer be named and known arrived inside a new body a new home far from what once was known in a land ruled by mystery and might, struggle he will for he no longer has one and is lacking the other.

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Xian song looked at his surroundings with recognition from memories that wernt his own yet somehow graced his mind provided nothing but clarity when his eyes wandered over poorly crafted wooden furniture and straw mat. He knew where he was the outer reaches of the outer sect at the outer edge of cultured land, the wooden sword sect where he was a new disciple lacking in talent and mind.

Despair, humiliation, grief, anger and finally acceptance, a new life he comes to realise free from people who once knew him, here he can start anew.