Misty rain veiled the river, and fog locked away the mountains.
The large ferry moored by the river resembled a lone island amid the clouds. Countless Jianghu foot soldiers braved the rain to descend its gangplank, gazing with curiosity at the Cloud River Marshland before them and the bevy of beauties holding umbrellas, their long, pale legs exposed. They whispered:
"Those are women from the Hehuan Sect?"
"Tender as tofu. You can tell they've had plenty of nourishing. Must be. Speaking of which, which tradition does the Hehuan Sect belong to?"
"Their founding patriarch dabbled in the dual-cultivation techniques of the Immortal, Buddhist, Martial, Shaman, and Demon traditions and established a school of his own. But its ceiling was low, and no one ever founded a great tradition and claimed the title of patriarch. It's just a fly-by-night sect..."
"They certainly look wild. I heard you can chat them up and get a free ride. They don't charge silver?"
"You think they run a charity? If they don't want money, they must want something else. See that martial artist with the dark circles and trembling legs? Three days at most, and that's what you'll look like..."
"Just goes to show how good the service is. Unlike Lao Xiang Ji-expensive and halfhearted..."
The Jianghu foot soldiers looked around as they walked. In the midst of their conversation, they suddenly noticed another group standing on the dock.
All dozen-odd members wore matching leather armor and black capes, with Ghost-Face Masks beneath their pitch-black bamboo hats. They stood utterly motionless in the curtain of rain. Their blades remained sheathed at their waists, yet they exuded a chilling menace. One glance was enough to tell they were ruthless Jianghu figures who had killed countless people.
A carved carrying chair stood in their midst,