Misty rain shrouded the river, and fog locked the mountains away.
The large ferry moored by the river looked like a lone island among the clouds. Countless Jianghu peddlers braved the rain as they walked down the gangplank, gazing with curiosity at the Cloud River Marshland before them and the bevy of beauties holding umbrellas, their long, fair legs exposed. They whispered among themselves:
"Are these the women of the Hehuan Sect?"
"Soft as tofu. One look tells you they've had plenty of nourishing. They probably are. Speaking of which, which sect does the Hehuan Sect belong to?"
"Their Founding Patriarch dabbled in dual-cultivation techniques of the Immortal, Buddhist, Martial, Shaman, and Demon traditions and established a school of his own. But its ceiling is low, and no one has established a teaching and proclaimed himself its progenitor. It's a wild chicken sect..."
"They certainly look wild. I heard you can get a free ride just by chatting them up. 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 dark circles under his eyes and trembling legs? Three days at most, and that's what you'll look like..."
"That means the service feels good. Unlike Lao Xiang Ji-expensive and half-hearted..."
The Jianghu peddlers looked around as they walked. In the middle of their conversation, they suddenly noticed another group standing on the dock.
All dozen or so wore uniform leather armor and black cloaks, with ghost-face masks beneath ink-black bamboo hats. They stood motionless in the curtain of rain. The blades at their waists remained sheathed, yet they exuded a chilling menace. One glance told anyone they were ruthless Jianghu figures who had killed countless people.
A carved sedan chair stood among them, and