Wild Fox Chan

A story written about how, when fortune arrives, heaven and earth work together, and when fortune fades, even heroes are no longer free.

It writes of a faltering country in wind and rain, of ministers at the pinnacle in the northern state, and of a court where corrupt officials run rampant, filled with all kinds of interest exchanges, maneuvering, and difficult steps.

It writes of a refined gentleman, polished like cut jade.

It writes of white bones like mountains and birds startled into flight, of riding across on horseback with a sword in hand and sweeping away ghostly rain.

It writes of a monk determined to become a rebel and traitor, and of several assassins who are not all that cold-blooded and cruel; it writes of the jianghu of old as a joke, and of great heroes as bandits.

It writes of fate shackling millions upon millions of people, and of millions upon millions of people shackling the world; survival is a long and foreign journey.

It writes of an age when sanctity has fallen and the spirit is barren: why do you fight?