Chapter One: Jiayuguan of the Great Ming, Where Does the Jianghu Lie?

Ming Dynasty, Jiayuguan Pass.

The west wind swept fiercely, and yellow sand blotted out the sun.
At this mighty fortress standing a hundred feet tall on the western frontier, countless soldiers of the empire’s armies paused their horses, guarding the border where Ming met the Mongol Yuan and Liao territories.

A handsome young lad led a pure white steed, walking through this formidable pass on the border where four nations converged. Merchants traveled tirelessly through the dusty roads, coming and going without end. Within the city, ranks of soldiers clad in deep crimson armor patrolled vigilantly, securing the fortress and its surroundings.

“Is this truly the famed Jiayuguan, the mightiest fortress under heaven?”

The youth held the reins of his white horse and wandered inside the war-hardened stronghold. What he saw was not a land ravaged by smoke and flame, but a scene of unimaginable prosperity. Before arriving, he had imagined the place quite differently—
wounded soldiers countless, civilians in misery, faces gaunt and hollow, stomachs empty.

Yet he never expected such flourishing vitality.

On both sides of the streets, merchants hawked their wares loudly, while townsfolk smiled warmly, showing no signs of worry despite being at a border fortress. Their clothes, simple hemp garments, were clean and neat.

The crowded streets bustled with laughter and chatter. Children played with wooden swords and spears, only to be dragged back by their parents for a scolding.

Everything was orderly and thriving.

The youth felt as if he were not at a war-ravaged frontier but in the fertile lands of Jiangnan.

“Is this what the pinnacle of human prosperity looks like?” he thought silently.

The handsome youth led his horse to a nearby inn, intending first to wash off the dust of travel. But then a conversation at a bookstall beside the inn caught his attention.

Before the stall, a young man clad in plain silk robes, with sword sleeves and a waist belt, a sword slung on his back, was nervously scratching his head while politely greeting an elderly bookseller.

“Grandfather, I’d like to ask for directions.”
“May I ask how to find the Jianghu within Lanzhou? I’ve been away from home for over a month and have searched everywhere, but I just can’t find it!”

The old bookseller, about to write, paused at these words and looked at the youth long and deep, sighing slowly. “Jianghu? It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those two words.”

The horse-leading youth passing by was intrigued and approached.

He had journeyed from the Sui Dynasty, passed through the Song, and met many heroes and villains alike. He had witnessed countless shadows of the world.

To him, Jianghu was everywhere; it was a world all around. How could it be that to this old man, Jianghu seemed so distant—as if it required contemplation... reflection?

“Grandfather, is Jianghu far away?”

The bright-eyed, spirited youth asked curiously.

The old bookseller was momentarily taken aback, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Far? Not really. As they say, where there are people, there are grudges; where there are grudges, there is Jianghu.”

“Jianghu is where you stand now, the tea and wine I drink.”

Yet, the old man’s smile faded, and he sighed bitterly. “But here in Lanzhou, Jianghu is far away indeed. The once-thriving sects—one school, two gates, three clans, four factions, five gangs, and eight notorious bandit lairs—have all become skeletal ruins, vanished like smoke. Where is the Jianghu now?”

Seeing the curiosity in the two youths before him, the old man pulled over a bamboo chair and began to recount the tales of Lanzhou’s past.

He spoke of the Western Demon Sect that once ruled the region with arrogance, reigning supreme over the northern deserts, commanding respect even from the Western Xia, Liao, Mongol Yuan, and Ming.

Who did not fear the Western Demon Sect?

The Black Tiger Hall and Divine Sword Hall boasted tens of thousands of disciples and countless masters; underworld and official realms alike dared not offend them.

The Shen, Zhang, and Li families of Lanzhou dominated commerce across textiles, mining, ceramics, grain, tea, salt, warhorses, and military supplies. Their trade extended to the Mongol Yuan, Liao, Western Xia, and Song. Even the border troops sometimes had to rely on them, such was their power.

Meanwhile, the eight great bandit clans of the Qilian Mountains frequently pillaged villagers and merchants, bringing calamity to the land.

But all of this vanished with the rise of the King of Suzhou.

The three thousand soldiers of the Suzhou royal guard swept across the Jianghu, targeting the Western Demon Sect first. When many thought the new king overestimated himself, in just one night the entire sect was eradicated. The Demon Sect’s leader, Bai Bi, famed for his near-divine power, was pinned to his own stronghold by a single spear.

The legendary Divine Sword Bai Tianyu, hailed as the fifth in celestial phenomena and the foremost master of the blade within the Ming, a peer of the Heavenly Sword Song Que from Sui, was ultimately slain within the Divine Sword Hall, which was then destroyed.

“It is said the ‘Heaven and Earth’s Yin-Yang Great Lament’ is a compilation of seven of the most terrifying and sinister martial arts. When the book was completed, the heavens rained blood, and ghosts cried at night. The one who wrote that final word died coughing blood.”

“After mastering this art, the Demon Sect leader Bai Bi’s power rivaled the forces of creation itself. Not even a grandmaster of celestial phenomena could match him. Who could kill him?”

The young man leading the horse listened, his face filled with profound shock.

Martial arts had been established since the Qin and Han eras, ranking warriors from the ninth grade warrior, Vajra, Finger Profound, Celestial Phenomena, Earth Immortal, Celestial Immortal to Supreme Longevity. Celestial Phenomena Grandmasters were born once in a century, the pinnacle of Jianghu.

Such a figure pinned to death in his own lair—how could it not leave him astounded?

As for Bai Tianyu, his fame alongside the Heavenly Sword Song Que was not self-proclaimed. He had once wielded the blood sword passed down through generations of the Divine Sword Hall to battle Song Que for the title of supreme swordsman. Song Que’s Water Immortal Sword was nearly severed in their duel, and their fight ended in a stalemate.

Yet Bai Tianyu walked out alive from Lingnan in the Sui, a genuine grandmaster of the blade.

Such a man—dead?

“Who in this world does not die?”

The old man’s rare bitter smile was tinged with mockery, whether at himself or fate, none could say. He shook his head.

“Though Bai Tianyu was a master of the blade, he was but a mere swordsman. Even if it is said that before his death he conceived a more powerful move, the Supreme Divine Slash, said to encompass heaven, earth, and man, able to kill anything, and to elevate blade art to its peak—still, he could not escape defeat.”

The old man’s eyes darkened for a moment. Even the earth-shattering Supreme Divine Slash was but a speck of light before the ultimate swordsmanship. Before such supreme swordsmanship, the claim that heaven, earth, and man could be slain with a single strike was mere delusional stubbornness.

Is not the Yin-Yang Great Lament also hailed as unparalleled martial art?

To that man, to the three thousand royal guard soldiers of Suzhou, it was nothing.

“Hah! Mere Bai Tianyu, what does he amount to?”

The old man chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“Five years ago, when the Mongol Yuan besieged the pass and Liao invaded the borders, they united eighty thousand elite troops to try to take Jiayuguan, reclaim the Qilian Mountains, and push southward to capture horses. At that time, the Mongol Yuan’s grand master Basiba was near the Celestial Immortal realm, close to immortality after a century. The Liao’s Great Pillar Yelü Wudi was also on the cusp of ascension. How could they not be arrogant?”

“But what was the outcome?”

“The King of Suzhou led a hundred thousand armored cavalry to break through hundreds of thousands of Liao troops, trampling their camps. First, he slew the Liao emperor Yelü Zongzhen, then killed the Mongol Yuan emperor Kublai Khan. The Mongol Yuan’s grand master Basiba, along with the Khan’s uncle Sihanfei and Yelü Wudi—three Earth Immortals—joined forces to kill the king.”

“In that battle, the king struck only two blows, driving off Basiba, the so-called Third Generation Living Buddha. Sihanfei lost an arm, and Yelü Wudi wielded the forces of wind and thunder, vowing to kill the king, but was instead pinned by a single sword within the Liao camp, on the brink of death.”

“In the end, the two nations begged for peace, sent envoys to Ming, and offered surrender. The Mongol Yuan abandoned their city, retreating 580 li to the grasslands; Liao retreated 350 li. For five years, no further battles were dared.”

“Compared to these three, mere Bai Tianyu is just a speck of light, hardly worth mentioning.”

Even after many years, recalling that man, that day, that sword, the old man’s eyes and heart were filled with indescribable awe. He truly admired the young prince before him.

That man’s mastery of the sword was peerless among mortals—unmatched by anyone since time immemorial.

Not even the undefeated Sword Demon Dugu Qiubai, nor the Sword God Xie Xiaofeng, whose swordlight chilled fourteen provinces, could compare.