In the beginning, the world of Jianghu was nothing but endless rivers of blood. Sects fought among themselves for dominance, clans clashed for power, and wandering masters carved their names upon the corpses of rivals.
It was an age without law, without unity — an age where the strong crushed the weak, and the weak could only kneel.
From this chaos rose a man history remembers as the First Emperor.
He was not born of noble blood, nor raised in a lofty sect. Yet, with blade and will, he conquered every land that resisted him. It is said he was the first mortal in all of Jianghu to shatter the limits of martial cultivation and ascend into the Transcendent Realm.
With power beyond human measure, he crushed every master who defied him. Sect lords, clan patriarchs, wandering saints — all bent or were broken. His armies marched from valley to sea, from desert to mountain, until at last the world itself bowed.
For the first time, all of Jianghu was united under a single throne.
But greatness breeds envy.
The First Emperor's own brother, consumed by ambition, poisoned him. By then, he too had ascended into the Transcendent Realm, and as the Emperor's body weakened, the throne was seized in blood. The Empire, once a shining promise, was thrown into storms of politics and deceit.
While the throne shook, the world bled.
The Mongol hordes swept down from the grasslands, burning villages and slaughtering cities. From the east, Japanese pirates ravaged the coasts, plundering and killing without mercy.
The new Emperor gathered his armies to defend the realm, but while he fought against invaders, another enemy rose within.
The great sects, clans, and martial schools of Murim had tasted freedom once before, and they would not live as hounds beneath the throne. Thus was born the Murim Alliance — a gathering of blades and wills, united not by loyalty, but by hatred of Imperial rule.
"Had the Mongols and Japanese not attacked the Empire, the Murim Alliance might never have been born." The war between Alliance and emperor was mater of time. But before war even began the Alliance Leader also ascended into the Transcendent Realm.
The Emperor was stronger, but if they fought to the end how know how will be winer of this battel — and Emperor knew the outside world was already watching his weakening throne.
So, to survive the chaos, the Emperor and the Alliance forged a truce:
The Empire would recognize Murim's independence.The Murim Alliance would turn its strength against foreign invaders.
And then a new force was born in Jianghu.
On the surface, peace had been restored. But in truth, both sides merely waited for the chance to seize more power. And in their endless hunger, they forgot about the people.
The Empire demanded taxes.
The Murim Alliance demanded tributes.
Farmers, woodcutters, fishermen — all were crushed between two mountains. Even when the common folk paid, their coin never returned to them. The merchants, bound to either the Empire or the Alliance, devoured what little remained like locusts.
Then came the greatest hell of all — the Law of Superiors.
Under this law, if any commoner disobeyed a lord, or anyone above him, he would be executed without trial. This single law gave the lords absolute power to use and abuse as they pleased. Every day, God knows how many innocents died unjustly because of it.
To resist was death.
To complain was death.
To live… was suffering.
In the middle of the forest, a young boy was chopping wood with his axe. He was no more than fourteen or fifteen.
"Shen Ming, it's time. The sun is setting. Let's go home."
A voice came from behind. Ming turned and saw his father.
"Yes, Father," Ming replied. He carried the wood on his shoulder, his body straining under the weight.
As he walked, thoughts stirred inside him.
I also want to become a warrior. I want to learn martial arts and protect my family. But to enter a martial arts school costs one silver… and I earn only ten copper a day from chopping wood. Five go to the government, and with the rest we can only buy one kilo of rice. It's never enough. Our family is growing hungrier every day.
He glanced at his father — thin, frail, his bones nearly visible beneath his skin.
I've been secretly saving one copper coin a day. In ten days, I'll have a hundred copper coins. Then I can join the martial arts school…
On the way home, he overheard voices in the village.
"Did you hear? The Emperor and the Alliance Leader are going to meet at the Dragon Plains."
"Really? Then we can go and see them?"
"Yes. It's only two hours from here."
Ming's heart raced. The Emperor… the Alliance Leader… the greatest warriors in all the land. I want to see them too.
When he and his father reached home, a small, rundown hut, a little girl of eight ran out to greet him.
"Brother! Brother! I was waiting for you. .
The little girl ran up, her face glowing with excitement.
Ming smiled, bent down, and gently patted her head. "You've been a good girl."
Her eyes sparkled. "I didn't cause any trouble today. Can I go with you tomorrow?"
He shook his head with a soft chuckle. "No, you're still too little. Stay with Mother and help her."
"I'm not little!" she puffed her cheeks. "I want to help too. Mother is sick… we need to see a physician. If I work, we can pay for her treatment quickly."
Ming fell silent for a moment. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached into his pouch and pulled out ninety copper coins.
"I was saving this for martial arts school," he admitted softly. "But if it helps Mother get better, then it's worth it."
The girl gasped. "So much money! Brother, with this we can also buy dumplings! I heard they're really tasty."
Ming chuckled, ruffling her hair again. "Alright. Tomorrow morning, we'll go see the physician. And on the way back, I'll buy you dumplings."
Her whole face lit up as she clung to his sleeve. "Promise?"
"I promise."
Their father, who had been watching silently, felt a lump in his throat. He had wanted to ask Ming for money, but lacked the courage to burden his son.
Their mother, weak but smiling from her bed, whispered, "Alright, everyone, eat."
For the first time in many days, laughter filled their little hut.
The next morning, Ming and his family set out to see the physician. On the way, they heard whispers.
"The Emperor is passing through our village on his way to the Dragon Plains."
Ming's sister tugged at his sleeve. "Brother! I want to see the Emperor!"
"After we visit the physician," Ming said with a smile, "we'll go see him."
At the clinic, Ming bowed to the physician's assistant.
"Please… my mother's health is not good. Can we see the physician?"
The assistant sneered. "We don't do charity here. Seventy copper coins if you want an examination."
The sneer of the assistant did not bother him. For people of Ming's stature, there was no right to speak back. They had long grown accustomed to such treatment, as if they truly believed they deserved it—though none could say why.
Ming nodded calmly. "We have the money."
The assistant raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Ming opened his pouch and showed the coins.
"…Stay here," the assistant muttered. He went inside and bowed. "Physician Lian Hua, a patient waits."
"Who is it?" a cold voice asked.
"Just some lowly commoner. But they have money."
Lian Hua stepped out of his chamber, eyes narrowing. "They have money? How can commoners have seventy copper?"
The assistant whispered, "I believe they have at least a hundred."
Lian Hua's lips curled into a sinister smile. "Ah. My hundred copper coins were stolen this morning… and I think that commoner has them."
The assistant froze. "…Lord, when did you—"
"You question me? You want me see commoner ?" Lian Hua snapped. "That wretch stole from me. If they resist, kill them."
The assistant bowed, trembling. "Yes, Lord."