Chapter 1: The Sun and the Moon Are Like Ants
Shouts pierced the nameless mountain wind, startling the forest birds. Red and green fallen leaves scattered under the dim gray sky, painting the towering cliffs with thin outlines. In that light, the grass and forests seemed alive with heroes.
The sun sank another inch. Thin white smoke spiraled before the cliff. Footsteps scattered, then converged. The noise dimmed, replaced by the low clang of unsheathed swords.
The crisp clash of iron against iron, carried on the weak autumn wind, resembled mournful music. Dark red blood splattered across the dirt road, streaking skyward. Following the trail, they found a familiar figure kneeling beneath a tree, his back turned.
"Dad!"
A young man rushed forward. As his hand touched the man’s shoulder, the head rolled from the corpse. Front-row onlookers staggered back, eyes wide at the ferocity in the lifeless gaze, shouting, "Song Huiya—!"
"Master Hu—!"
Nearby, a swordsman lounged on a bluestone by the roadside, amused by the crowd’s shifting expressions. The bloodied iron sword in his hand trembled slightly.
"Song Huiya, exiled for years by your own grudges, and yet still reckless!" the crowd roared. "If not for your master, you’d have died long ago! Your violence knows no bounds—how many crimes have you committed?"
Song Huiya listened, recalling a decade of drifting since her master’s defeat, and laughed quietly. She had never let go of her sword, never had a place to stand, wandering without a fixed path. Death had followed her countless times, earning her a fearsome reputation.
Scoffing, she muttered, "This Jianghu world is absurd. Mediocre villains claiming to uphold justice!"
Blood stained her clothes, her body battered and torn. Even so, her calm composure barely masked her exhaustion. The crowd hesitated, wary, until an old man emerged from behind.
Half a month of pursuit had worn him down. Leaning on his broken sword, he spoke hoarsely, "If your master saw you today, he would not rest in peace."
Song Huiya’s eyes flickered with surprise. Then a wry smile crossed her face. "Master Xie, you still remember my master? You once stood with him against abuse of power, full of righteous indignation. And now? You’ve become a lackey of the corrupt, swayed by wealth or fear?"
The bearded guest beside her flew into a rage, pointing and shouting, "Evil creature! Senior tried to help, yet you persist in your reckless ways—"
A nearly inaudible sword hum halted him. Song Huiya pushed her scabbard slightly, smirking, "You weren’t my target. Want to scout ahead for that little beast first?"
The young man beside him froze, dozens of eyes now on him. Fear twisted his face as he roared, "Uncle Xie! My father devoted his life to the people and died with eyes wide open. You must avenge him! Song Huiya is a scourge!"
A cold voice sneered, "Brother Hu, she can’t even escape, yet wants to kill? Foolish dream."
"Good man," Song Huiya smiled, "come try if you dare."
The old man sighed. "Song Huiya, you avenged your master. But the innocent lives lost… can you claim a clear conscience?"
"I, Song Huiya, admit my crimes," she replied, then lost interest. "When Hu Gou wanted to kill me, it was a martial grudge. Now thousands call me evil. Are we debating 'justice'?"
Her voice calm, mockery in her gaze, she added, "Xie Zhongchu, all these years, you let scoundrels hunt me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll come after you?"
Supporting herself on her knees, she slowly rose. Everyone tensed like startled birds.
"The world is a turbulent tide, yet I choose to stand atop the waves," she declared. Her sword, trembling in hand, caught the dusk’s pale haze. Lips curling in arrogance, she continued:
"I want those who follow the current to fear me, those who stir the storm to hate me. My sword shall hang above rivers and seas; even in death, my bones exposed to sun and moon!"
She raised her heels, sweeping dust around her. "I want you to be in turmoil day and night!"
"Retreat!" Xie Zhongchu shoved the young man aside, blocking the sword’s path. Sand and smoke swirled as the crowd charged.
Despite hundreds attacking, Song Huiya’s sword flashed like tumbling waves, gnawing through their formation. Rumors had spoken true: her sword could shake clouds, split light, rip stars.
"Kill—I don’t believe this monster will die!"
Xie Zhongchu seized a machete, slashing fiercely. Song Huiya countered, shards flying into her palm, clearing a bloody path. Strength waned; her right hand drooped.
Life and death stood a few feet apart. The young man paused, Xie struck, and chaos ensued. Song Huiya’s eyes dazed, barely avoiding critical strikes, until a broken white blade pierced, sending blood spraying.
"Brother Hu——"
"My dear nephew!"
The day waned. Song Huiya, supporting her body, leaped into a cliff abyss, vanishing into the evening wind. The bearded guest chased, only to be struck by a hidden blade piercing his eye. Screaming, he fell.
Xie Zhongchu stared at the mist-shrouded cliff. "... Search! If he lives, find him. If not, at least his body!"
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