At the heart of Xiaoyu Continent lay a place of breathtaking scenery, with rolling mountain ranges and lush, verdant forests. In this realm that resembled a fairyland, countless tales and legends of immortals, ghosts, and monsters had circulated for thousands of years.
Unfortunately, this misty, picturesque place bore an exceedingly vulgar name—Huanghua Ridge!
Though Huanghua Ridge sounded terribly commonplace, that could not conceal the truth that "a mountain became renowned when immortals dwelled upon it." In the vast lowlands between Huanghua Ridge's mountains and plains, dense white mist that not even the wind could disperse blocked ordinary people from climbing the mountains in search of immortals, leaving them ignorant of the stories and truths behind the fog. Yet while this mysterious mist severed the path beneath mortal feet, it could not sever the path within their hearts. Thus, tales of mountains, waters, immortals, and demons were passed down one after another, generation after generation!
The more they were told, the more numerous they became; the more they were told, the more wondrous they became!
The stories told by ordinary folk mostly carried their beautiful wishes, and were mostly woven at will. Yet what the villagers near Huanghua Ridge did not know was that there truly was a genuine cultivation sect on the ridge. Its name stood in stark contrast to Huanghua Ridge's vulgar name. It was not merely mysterious, but utterly baffling as well. Its name was—Shang Hua Ming!
How Shang Hua Ming had received its name could no longer be verified. Even Xiao Yuehong, the thirty-sixth-generation sect master of Shang Hua Ming, had once, in a fit of boredom, combed through every text in the sect without finding so much as a scrap of record. As for why Xiao Yuehong had been so bored, perhaps one only needed to