At the northernmost tip of Yue Country, there stands a towering peak that rises into the clouds, its mountain ridges winding and unbroken, majestic and magnificent. Yet, at its very summit, a single sword strike has cleaved the peak, the cross-section smooth and level, abruptly halting its grandeur and leaving behind an indescribable discomfort.
At the cut summit, a man in white robes lounges half-reclined amid the clouds and mist, legs idly crossed, a sword in his arms. The wooden sword scabbard seems plain and unremarkable; as for the man's face, it is shrouded in a haze, his features obscured and indistinct.
The biting north wind at the mountaintop is sharp and bone-chilling, yet he wears only simple white robes, idly fiddling with the jade pendant on his sword, murmuring softly:
"Furious Maha..."
