Once upon a time, there was a sect called Wuxiang Chán Dòu. Its leader was Xu Ji, and his disciple was named Hu Li. Hu Li owned a sword, nameless and never used for killing, yet it had seen its fair share of blood, from chickens and ducks if that counts. These four members of the small sect suddenly found themselves stumbling into a sixteen-year-old conspiracy, bewildered and confused. Martial arts, the imperial court, extermination, and old dreams— the past was a tangled web of deceit and intrigue. In that year of the martial world, little did anyone know that many years later, Hu Li would still be clutching that worn-out sword. —My blade is the essence of the martial world, commanding respect and stirring up the winds and clouds. Its handle is my heart. Those who cannot hold their hearts upright, how can they bear the weight of the martial world?