Jingzhou.
Deep in a remote mountain, there was a winding, twisting path, now hidden, now visible among the verdant bamboo and dark pines.
Mountains encircled the place on all sides, clouds and mist coiled about, pines stood in ranks, undergrowth ran wild, and human footprints were rare.
A man walked along the path with his hands clasped behind his back.
He wore a dark long robe, and on his face was a Bronze Mask engraved with mysterious patterns; his features could not be seen, only a pair of bright, spirited eyes, whose gaze seized the heart.
The robed man exuded a vague aura—sharp, grim, murderous!
Utterly out of tune with his surroundings, the moment this man appeared, he shattered the quiet harmony of this place!
Before long, the man halted.
The path had come to an end.
He glanced around, then lifted his foot and strode off in one particular direction.
Ka-ka-ka!
