Fine rain drifted down like cotton onto the streets of the Imperial City.
Some pedestrians in the city carried umbrellas, while others hurried beneath the eaves to shelter from the rain.
Rain pattered against the green roof tiles, then dripped along the gutters onto the stone-paved streets.
Pitter-patter...
A swordsman emerged from a wine shop, shaking his head with a dissatisfied sigh. "The wine sellers in this Imperial City really do have black hearts. How could they have the gall to charge me twelve taels of silver for one cup of Apricot Blossom Village?"
"That's silver, not stones!"
"The Imperial City really is no place for a Sword Cultivator like me. I'm leaving, I'm leaving!"
He flicked the sword in his hand and turned to step into the rain, about to leave, only to see a scholar walking toward him.
The scholar wore white and was exceptionally delicate-featured, with three flowers atop his head. He looked utterly strange...
Holding an umbrella, the scholar walked up to him and simply looked at him...
Rain beat against the swordsman, but he thought nothing of it.
He merely watched the approaching scholar in puzzlement, then thought for a moment before asking:
"Do you know me?"
The scholar shook his head, then nodded.
"We met once..."
Did we?
The swordsman was puzzled, but could not remember when he had met this scholar.
He had wandered the martial world alone all his life and seen countless people, yet had never had any dealings with them.
"What do you want with me?" the swordsman asked. "If you've suffered some injustice and want my help, just say so. There's no need to pretend we're close..."
"When we Sword Cultivators encounter injustice on the road, we naturally lend a hand."
He had expected tears of gratitude from the