Clouds hung low over the Thạch Lâm range, thick and gray as mourning cloth. Mists wound about jagged peaks like endless white serpents, and the wind screamed through narrow crags as if echoing the curses of countless restless spirits buried beneath the abyss.
It was said that Broken Soul Cliff was the very place where, three hundred years ago, the sword hero Phùng Hạo Kiệt was surrounded by fifty enemies. Before dying, he carved eight characters into the stone:
"Uphold righteousness in the martial world; life or death without regret."
Those eight characters had long faded beneath moss and lichen, but the martial world still whispered of this cliff—a place where friendships were severed, enmities settled, and where countless died chasing forbidden secrets.
Today, the swirling fog parted to reveal a ledge stained with countless brown bloodstains. Here once more, fate drew two young people into the storms of Jianghu.
A Farewell at the Precipice
Bích Thủy wore a faded cloak, hiding wounds yet to heal. She gazed at the milky clouds swirling below the cliff's edge, voice raw with fatigue:
"This place… my father once spoke of it. He said that whoever sets foot on Broken Soul Cliff… must choose: uphold righteousness, or preserve their own life."
Quang Minh rested his hand lightly on his sword's hilt, eyes fixed upon drifting clouds:
"If I must die today, I shall not regret it. I only regret… not being able to lead you away from this world of bloodshed."
She turned to him, a weary yet gentle smile brushing her lips:
"No one ever escapes, Quang Minh… because Jianghu isn't just out there. It also lives inside us."
A chill wind struck their faces, carrying the scent of moss and ancient dust.
Arrival of Three Factions
A shrill flute pierced the silence, cutting like a blade through mist and stone. From among the bamboo shadows, four black-robed figures glided forth, steps silent as drifting smoke.
At their head was Hắc Trường Uy, a grim-faced man with eyes sharp as twin steel hooks. He folded his arms across his chest, voice hoarse:
"Two mere youths dare to hold the Long Tàng Secret Manual? Tonight is your final deadline."
Behind him, two white-haired female assassins raised their blades, their breath cold as death itself.
Bích Thủy tightened her grip on her silver flute. Quang Minh whispered urgently:
"Don't let him close in. That man's inner strength is dark and strange—don't take risks."
Suddenly, a clear laugh rang from the cliff's edge. From behind a toppled boulder drifted forth a figure in grey Daoist robes. His long white beard fluttered in the breeze, eyes as deep and fathomless as an ancient abyss.
It was Nguyễn Tinh Vân, last heir of the Vô Cực Đạo.
"Thủy nhi, you are no longer a child… That manual once belonged to the Nguyễn family. But whether to keep it or destroy it… is for you alone to decide."
The wind changed suddenly, turning into a furious howl. From the right flank of the ledge swept in a flame-colored figure, robes billowing like crimson clouds. A woman stepped forward, face as beautiful as peach blossoms, but eyes as cold as steel:
"The Long Tàng belongs neither to the Nguyễn family nor to the weak. Today… the strong shall claim it, and the weak shall die!"
She was Vân Lục Yên, Mistress of the Ma Ảnh Cốc, who had once slain seven guardians of the Kim Long Gang in a single moonlit night.
In an instant, Broken Soul Cliff was wreathed in killing aura as thick as storm clouds.
Moments Before Battle
Quang Minh swept his gaze across these figures. Each came with their own ambition—some for glory, some for power, some for vengeance rooted deep in ancient blood feuds.
In that brief moment, he understood: whether he and Bích Thủy survived or fell here today, the world would keep turning. The waves of Bích Hải would roar on. The martial realm would keep spinning tales of heroes and betrayal.
And yet… he felt no regret.
"If a man can stand for another—even if it costs his last drop of blood—then his life is not wasted."
A Battle of Life and Death
Hắc Trường Uy snapped his sleeve. Four black-clad assassins lunged forward. Bích Thủy lifted her flute and played a sharp, chilling note. The four men staggered, thrown momentarily off-balance.
At that instant, Vân Lục Yên flared forward, five crimson fingernails glowing like blood-soaked daggers. Her body seemed to dissolve and reform, moving so fast she blurred. She unleashed the Blood Shadow Setting Sun palm strike, sending two of Hắc Y Môn's assassins flying off the cliff with a single blow, their cries snatched away by the wind.
Nguyễn Tinh Vân hissed:
"Ma Ảnh Cốc… all you know is killing. Let me put an end to your slaughter!"
He swept his sleeve forward, a blast of power rippling outward like a crashing wave. Rock exploded into powder, filling the air with blinding white dust.
Quang Minh leapt into action, his sword flashing in Heavenly Cloud Spinning Wave, parrying two attackers and striking to counter Hắc Trường Uy's dark palm. The clash sent tremors down Quang Minh's arm, blood welling in his chest until he nearly coughed it up.
Bích Thủy staggered back three steps, arm trembling violently. Each breath was a blade scraping her ribs. Yet she refused to lower her flute, eyes shining with fierce determination.
The sounds of clashing weapons, shrill flute notes, and thunderous palm strikes mingled in a deafening storm. Stone shattered. Chips of rock rained into the abyss below like falling stars.
The Height of Tragedy
Amid the chaos, Nguyễn Tinh Vân suddenly darted forward to stand before Quang Minh, voice ringing like a temple bell:
"The manual must never fall into wicked hands!"
From his sleeve, he drew forth a purple silk-wrapped book—the Long Tàng Secret Manual.
Quang Minh froze. For a heartbeat, the howling winds, the screams, and the clash of steel seemed to recede, leaving only the thundering of his own heartbeat.
Nguyễn Tinh Vân gripped the manual tightly, looking at Bích Thủy, his voice hoarse:
"If no one in this world deserves to guard it… then let it vanish forever."
"NO!" Bích Thủy cried, lunging forward.
But even as she moved, Vân Lục Yên struck, her palm lashing toward Nguyễn Tinh Vân. An ear-splitting blast echoed over the precipice. The impact cracked the cliff face open, fissures spreading like lightning across the stone.
Amid the crumbling ledge, Nguyễn Tinh Vân hurled the manual into the depths below.
Three factions screamed at once.
Chapter End
The winds of Broken Soul Cliff howled like a chorus of weeping ghosts. Across the shattered rock, Bích Thủy fell to her knees, face pale as paper, eyes staring blankly at the swirling white mists into which the manual had disappeared.
Quang Minh stepped forward, seizing her trembling hand. In his heart, he felt a strange, weightless calm.
The manual was gone. Schemes were undone. Yet debts of blood and ties of honor… remained unbroken.
Above them, a single pale sunbeam broke through the clouds, spilling weak light upon the blood-splashed stones. Upon Broken Soul Cliff, only two young figures stood amid the wreckage, gazing toward a martial world more uncertain than ever.