The Ancient Land—a place of strange nations and foreign realms, where we, humanity, rule supreme.
The Ancient Land is a vast continent within an incredibly immense world—so vast that humans only know themselves to be the dominant species of the Ancient Land itself. The Ancient Land is divided into Dongcheng, Xijie, Zhongtu, Nanyang, and Beihuang. Each region possesses its own distinct culture, where smaller nations are influenced by the culture of the largest state in terms of landmass and population. There is no magic in this world; rulers rely solely on martial might to exert their influence over the weak. The strong hold power, while the weak are subjected to servitude.
Two thousand years ago, in eastern Dongcheng, unified from small states sharing a nomadic, wheat-farming culture, Qianguo was established, becoming the greatest civilization in Dongcheng. "Qian" means to migrate, a nod to their nomadic culture; the name Qianguo was chosen so that all its people would remember their roots. Qianguo lay upon a stretch of land extending from the center of Dongcheng to the eastern coast. To the northeast, it bordered the lands of the minor states of the Gou tribe; to the south, across the Yanghai River, it bordered the hundred minor states of the Long clan, commonly known as the Hundred Nations of the Long Clan. Through military might and a formidable power of assimilation, the cavalry of Qianguo once conquered the vast lands south of the Yanghai River.
South of the Bailong Mountains, the two strongest remaining minor states of the Long clan, Hailong and Oulong, merged to form Longguo. They reverse-assimilated the Qianguo citizens within their borders, continuously expanded their territory toward the southern coast, and crossed the Bailong Mountains to launch fierce offensives against the northern border to reclaim their ancestral lands. After a thousand years of war, Longguo finally realized that they were the strongest Longguo people left, while the Long bloodlines of other ancient states had long been assimilated and lost. Yet, ravaged by war, Qianguo also lost control over its southern territories. The buffer zone—south of the Yanghai River and north of the Bailong Mountains—became a fertile yet lawless land, turning into a sanctuary for great sects, clans, and powerful factions. This territory was divided into nine major regions, home to hundreds of clans and religious factions, and thus came to be known as Baijiao Jiudi. It was considered the very heart of Dongcheng's elite, yet it was also the most chaotic and war-torn region, serving as the primary battlefield between Qianguo and Longguo.
Jiudi was a chaotic realm where the martial world of the Jianghu flourished to its absolute peak. Generation after generation of eccentric talents, legendary heroes, and peerless martial artists emerged, alongside coveted secret manuals and heaven-shaking divine weapons. The one acknowledged as the undisputed number one of Jiudi would be crowned the Jiuzhu, the Lord of the Nine, to rule over the nine regions. To become the Jiuzhu, one required two things: overwhelming personal strength and the backing of a colossal faction. Strength alone was not enough; one also needed a powerful force supporting them from the shadows. To lack either was to fail. Domestically, the Jiuzhu served as the leader of a loose alliance of great sects and orthodox schools. To the outside world, the Jiuzhu held a status equal to that of the Long Emperor or the Emperor himself.
Throughout a thousand years of history, the only person who relied solely on his own strength to build a faction, earning the reverence of all sects—both orthodox and demonic—to ascend the throne of Jiuzhu, was actually a man of Longguo, not a native of the region. Two hundred years ago, Mo Jiancheng, a martial artist from Longguo—a nation that had always looked down upon the affairs of the Jianghu—carved out his own path in Jiudi entirely on his own, without a single soul backing him.
Relying solely on his peerless martial prowess, Mo Jiancheng pacified the chaotic world, crushed the Heavenly Army, and supported the Long Kingdom, achieving illustrious military exploits.
Mo Jiancheng was the only person to be hailed as the Greatest Ninth Lord of All Eternity.
How glorious that was!
The aged voice echoing in the roadside tea stall suddenly stopped, as if the story that had just been told had also reached its conclusion.
“Old man, your story is quite good, but does wandering around telling stories like this actually get you any food to eat?
Why don't you settle down somewhere instead of wandering around in your old age?” asked a young child sitting by the pole supporting the awning of the tea stall at the entrance of the village. With chubby cheeks like steamed buns, hair tied in a bun, wearing a brown shirt, barefoot, he tilted his head, his eyes filled with doubt as he questioned the old man sitting at the tea table.
An older boy, about eleven years old, with well-proportioned features, bright eyes, a high and straight nose bridge, lips pale from the cold, a sallow complexion, and a tall, slender build, was wearing a patched black coat and straw shoes. Leaning against the pole, he lightly scolded the younger child with a stern face:
“Xiao Chong, do not be rude to the senior.
Senior, please forgive him and pay no mind to his childish words.”
“Haha! It's fine, it's fine! You are quite a respectful child.
You speak with such propriety.
Your
Of the two brothers of the Chen family, the elder was born during a time of chaotic flight. In those days when his parents were still carrying him in their arms as they fled, they often went hungry, and even a single bowl of white rice seemed like the ultimate happiness.
Hoping that there would always be a bowl of white rice in the house in the future, his father clicked his tongue and named him Baifan.
No one knew what the future would hold, but since childhood, the number of times the family of four had actually eaten white rice could be counted on one's fingers.
His parents named the younger brother Xiaochong. They couldn't even remember why they called him that, but they had gotten used to it, so they just let it be. After all, his parents were uneducated, and their lives were precarious; as long as there was food to eat, who cared about names?
Inside the small, dilapidated thatched cottage, a woman with disheveled hair was scooping sweet potatoes out of a pot.
Her thin, frail, and weathered frame was the result of years of hardship, toiling year-round yet never having enough to eat.
Outside the door, a sturdy, dark-skinned man with short hair squatted, weaving a bamboo basket.
Catching sight of the two children returning, the man smiled and asked, "Has the old man really left? You two are quite hospitable, escorting him all the way to the entrance of the village."
"Hehe! Father, that old man gave me and Big Brother a crow's egg each."
"Save them for when you're really hungry. Come on in, it's time to eat," the woman said with a gentle smile, carrying a basket of sweet potatoes and placing it on the wooden table in the middle of the room.
The man stopped his work, lightly dusted off his hands, and walked over to the wooden table where everyone was settling down.
The four of them enjoyed their meal together happily.
Although the meal consisted of nothing but simple sweet potatoes, having food to eat was still far better than starving.
The entire population of this small village had once been slaves living in a deep valley in the forests of Zhen Region, held captive by a secret sect.
Everyone had to work from dawn to dusk, mining gold for them.
Unable to endure the exploitation, a group of them rose up when the guards were distracted, broke through the camp gates, and fled.
At that time, the man's family consisted only of himself, his wife, and the newborn Baifan.
The escape was chaotic, and many lost their lives. Fortunately, the survivors crossed paths with the army of the Dragon Kingdom during their flight and were rescued by the soldiers.
Later, guided by the soldiers, the group of refugees headed south to Xinzhou, where they established this small village.
More than ten years had passed since they escaped their imprisonment. Now, living a life of freedom, even though food was scarce at times, everything was precious to them.
To Baifan, going hungry was no big deal.
Witnessing his parents go hungry to give their food to the two brothers made him realize just how much they had sacrificed.
Xiaochong was still young and naive, but as the elder brother, Baifan had to be sensible. He constantly reminded himself to work hard and help his parents.
To him, as long as his parents were healthy, skipping a meal or two was nothing.
Even a simple meal to stave off hunger was a great blessing in this chaotic world.
"Oh, Father, Mother.
This afternoon, that old man said our village sits on some kind of killing vein or yin vein.
He said disaster is bound to strike here and advised our family to leave," Baifan said as he ate.
"Oh, please! He's just a senile old man. You're listening to nonsense, Big Brother," Xiaochong dismissed, lowering his head to continue eating.
In contrast to his sons' attitude, the man put down the sweet potato in his hand, his face clouding with deep thought and worry.
Seeing this, his wife asked anxiously:
"Da Chen, could this really be as serious as that old man said? I think he might just be old and senile."
"What kind of person did you take that old man for? And look at us—what do we have that's even worth swindling?"
"Perhaps he is right, this matter must be carefully considered." The man shook his head, refusing to take it lightly.
Seeing her husband's determination, the woman could only remain silent.
More than anyone, she knew her husband was an extremely cautious man, the type to thoroughly analyze every issue rather than brush it aside. It was no coincidence that he had been able to single-handedly support their family and keep them alive in this famine-stricken village.
Although the small village had settled down, everyone was still constantly living in fear of being hunted down and killed by the slave owners.
Even so, she did not think things were as serious as he made them out to be. Years ago, they had survived being hunted down in a near-death situation; compared to that, what did a mere premonition matter?
The woman believed that perhaps their past life of constantly hovering between life and death had made her husband overly sensitive, especially regarding death.
The man suddenly stopped his chopsticks, lost in thought.
For the past few days, he had been plagued by an ominous premonition, feeling an oppressive discomfort he couldn't quite put his finger on. Now, the appearance of the strange old man only heightened his anxiety.
He said to his wife and two sons:
"No, this isn't right.
Keep eating, I must inform the village chief about this." With that, he dashed out the door, running like the wind.
At a house in the middle of the village, a chorus of dog barks rang out.
An old woman hurriedly ran out to open the gate, muttering, "Pitch black, freezing rain and wind, I don't know what lunatic is coming to disturb people's peace at this hour.
COMING, COMING! WAIT A MOMENT!"
The gate opened. Seeing the drenched man, the old woman said in surprise:
"Dai Chen! What's happened that has you in such a panic?"
"It's urgent! Old lady, is the village chief home?" the man asked hastily.
"He's inside! Come in quickly before you catch a cold..."
Without waiting for her to finish, the man dashed across the yard and burst into the house.
In the middle of the room, an elderly man was waving a bamboo spill to catch a flame, squinting as he read something.
Seeing the man standing panting in the middle of the room, he spoke in a lukewarm tone:
"Dai Chen! What's the rush on such a freezing night?
Come, have a cup of hot tea to warm yourself up first."
The man took a deep breath, stepped toward the wooden table, and picked up the cup of tea the old man had just poured.
After drinking it, he set the cup down gently and said hurriedly to the village chief:
"Chief, disaster is upon us! Our village is harboring a hidden catastrophe..."
"Calm down! Speak slowly, I'm listening. Do you think this old man is hard of hearing, haha?" The old man chuckled reassuringly.
"Surely you know about the ragged old man who came to our village yesterday, Chief? He just left this afternoon. My two sons escorted him all the way to the edge of the village," the man reported.
"I know, I know. He told me he was some kind of Chuan Shi Sect follower. What about him?"
"This afternoon, he told my two boys that our village lies on a killing vein, and that a deadly disaster is imminent. He advised us to leave this place..." The man weighed every word carefully.
"Hmm! Dai Chen, even though you are a junior compared to him, you shouldn't be so gullible.
People of the jianghu are up to no good. Besides, we have been rooted here for nearly ten years. Do you think those stubborn folks would uproot their homes based on a single word?
Furthermore, what does our village even have that could trigger a great disaster? Just a few sweet potatoes and some chickens—even beggars wouldn't bother setting foot here." The old man stood up and looked outside.
"Lately, I've just had this bad feeling.
Chief, we once escaped from the jaws of death. Our sense of danger is far sharper than that of ordinary people. You of all people should know this better than I do. Do you really not feel that something is wrong?"
The village chief narrowed his eyes, lost in thought. Only after a long silence did he speak: "There is indeed a strange feeling, but we cannot be certain it is danger.
Perhaps we are just being overly sensitive."
"But Chief! In any case, we cannot afford not to consider this carefully.
Although we cannot fully believe that old man's words, they are not entirely without reason."
—the sturdy man tried to persuade him.
The village chief fell silent, a thoughtful look appearing on his weathered, elderly face.
As one of the last survivors, he knew Da Chen was a cautious man, not one to act rashly.
However, he also knew that some things in this village were very difficult to change.
Most of the villagers had once been slaves. Now that they finally had a place to call their own, if they had to uproot themselves, where would they go? Not to mention the potential losses if they abandoned the village.
The old man's eyes suddenly widened as he remembered something. With a solemn expression, he said, "I know you are cautious! As I see it, if you are still worried, you and your wife and children should consider packing up and leaving. After all, your family is strong and can travel far, and you are adaptable, not stubborn like those other folks."
"But what about you, Chief?" the man asked anxiously.
"I am old and don't have much longer to live anyway. Dying here would be a comfort! Haha.
Furthermore! If you intend to leave, I have something I want to hand over to you. You can keep it to study." The old man glanced around the room, then pulled out an old piece of hide—more accurately, a secret map made of leather.
"Years ago, during the chaos of the war, I accidentally obtained this secret map.
After studying it for many years, I initially thought it was a treasure map. But looking at it again and again, it is essentially only half of a secret map. Without the other half, it is completely worthless.
Moreover, it leads to the Bi Ye Swamp, a notorious danger zone in the southwest of Xinzhou, bordering the Xun Region.
No fool would go all the way in there to hide gold and silver.
When I picked it up, I didn't think much of it, just grabbed it on a whim. But seeing how anxiously the camp overseers were searching for it back then, I believe it contains some earth-shattering secret.
Regrettably, my abilities are lacking, and I cannot unravel it. If I were to hand it to someone else, I feared it might bring disaster.
You are cautious by nature. Now, with this situation, you and your wife might leave, so I will leave it to you. How you use it is entirely up to you.
But you must be careful; holding a hot potato can get you burned."
The man carefully accepted the secret map and tucked it inside his robes.
After a few more exchanges of futile persuasion, the man sighed and returned home.
The old man watched the man's large silhouette gradually fade into the darkness. He could not help but sigh, shaking his head as he thought of the calamities that might soon descend upon their small village.