Late at night, Ye Mingzhi drifted into slumber—only to find himself caught in a celestial battlefield. Clutching an ancient sword, he fought fiercely against the Dao's disciples and their dark master.
Amidst the chaos, a woman's voice pierced through the clamor."Ah Zhi!"
His heart trembled. He spun toward the voice, his body moving with lightning speed. In a blink, he was before her, shielding her from harm.
But then—A flash of cold light. A short blade plunged into the woman's chest. One of the Dao's enforcers had struck.
"No!" Ye Mingzhi cried out, anguish choking his voice."I'm sorry... I should have sensed their evil sooner…"
Rage consumed him. With a roar, he unleashed the full power of the ancient sword. A devastating wave swept across the battlefield, annihilating his enemies in an instant.
The sword, responding to his fierce emotions, flared uncontrollably. Flames surged from its hilt, searing his hand.
The searing pain jolted him awake.
His chest heaved, sweat drenched his brow. Morning light spilled through the inn's window.
Was it just a dream?Then why does my hand burn? Why did it feel so real?Who am I... and who was she? Who were they?
Unanswered questions swirled in his mind—mysteries with no clear beginning, no end in sight.