The great river flowed east, and a rising sun climbed above the horizon.
A cool autumn breeze swept over the yellow earth scarred by battle, swirling loose blades of grass. Countless traces of the sweat and blood spilled by martial artists still remained on the ground.
Dressed in black martial attire, Wei Yin sat at the edge of the Dragon Sacrifice Platform with his legs dangling, gazing at the newborn sun. His back was powerfully built, his brow imposing, and a jade pendant hung from his belt, engraved with a little tiger with a comically guileless face.
Wei Wuyi stood beside him, his hands behind his back and his posture straight. His spiritual radiance was restrained, his bearing peaceful, and he looked like a father who had only just entered middle age.
"Of the four students chosen by seniors such as Ye Sheng, I alone had neither school nor sect, neither family nor connections. But that doesn't matter. Whether in the Jianghu or on the Cultivation Dao, heroes have never been judged by their origins. So long as you harbor the righteous path in your heart and put people first, even a humble, fleeting life among the wilds can Found a Sect and Become a Patriarch.
"To the heroes of the Jianghu, winning the Heroes' Gathering marks the end of their lifelong journey through the Jianghu. But for you, the great Dao stretches without limit. This is merely your debut battle. Crushing ordinary men is inevitable; that's what you ought to be able to do. But those who reach the end of the Cultivation Dao are, without exception, freaks favored by heaven..."
In past years, Wei Yin had spent his days and nights sparring with his elders in the mountains behind Snow Eagle Ridge. Outsiders did not know his name,