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Tang Sect.
“Another winter…” A long, weary sigh escaped someone’s mouth.
That single word, another, held lifetimes of bitterness.
Tang Eleven sat high atop the black ice tower at the center of the Tang Sect.
Four chains of cold iron creaked and groaned in the misty mountain wind, their heavy clatter echoing through snow and silence.
Her massive puppet body was battered and full of dents, worn from time and struggle.
Most days, she stayed near the frozen base of the tower, trying to slow the collapse of her spiritual energy. But today, she sat on the edge of the cloud-piercing tower, gazing across the deep valleys and cliffs as snowflakes danced in the air.
There was despair in her eyes, deep, raw, and crushing.
“This land knows peace again… But still…no one has unlocked the secrets of the Human Emperor’s Martial Canon. I can’t grasp it. I truly can’t!” Tang Eleven was in agony.
Ever since she had helped bring stability to the fractured world, she had returned to this place, immersing herself in the study of the manual, day and night, while keeping a close ear on news from the martial world.
Across the realm, countless masters just like her had locked themselves away, trying to decipher the Human Emperor’s Martial Canon. Yet not...
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