Two weeks had passed since the great battle in Daeng City. The Sect Alliance had successfully driven out the dark threat that had caused chaos, and peace slowly began to blanket the Murim world.
At the edge of the coastal city of Duyin stood a shabby yet warm hut, far from the hustle and bustle of people and worldly affairs. It was here that Jian Mo lived with his adopted daughter, Su Daji, trying to live an ordinary life... or at least, trying.
That morning, their field, still muddy from the rain the night before, was a mess. Jian Mo grabbed his hoe, while Su Daji ran toward him carrying seedlings.
> "Dad, here's the seedlings—"
THUD!
Su Daji slipped. Her face hit the mud like a bread falling into soup.
> "Pwah! Hehehe—now I'm sticky rice!"
"Oh, you... always like rice on the go," Jian Mo chuckled, wiping Daji's face with the hem of his shirt.
After laughing for a moment, they returned to their work. Jian Mo hoed with a peaceful face, and Su Daji planted the seedlings carelessly—some crooked, some even upside down.
> "Dad, do you think wheat can grow if watered with soy sauce?"
Jian Mo gave her a deep look.
"Are you trying to be a farmer or a failed chef?"
---
The next day – City of Duyin
They walked through the market. Su Daji was excited to see a large salted fish and tried to haggle with her usual style: "Discount it by 100 coins, and I'll give you a dried leaf painting."
As they were about to head home, they noticed a commotion. Three arrogant-looking warriors were bullying an old merchant who seemed to be at his wits' end.
> "What's going on?" Su Daji whispered.
Jian Mo hissed, "Not our business."
But Su Daji tugged at his hand, pleading with her eyes.
> "Dad… that old man looks like the kind-hearted elder who will die in the next episode unless we help him."
Jian Mo sighed deeply. "Good grief, you..."
They approached. One of the warriors raised his hand to slap the merchant, but Jian Mo caught it midair. His face was calm, but his gaze made the three warriors go on high alert.
> "Who are you?"
"A farmer," Jian Mo replied. "A farmer who can plant seedlings... and plant you into the ground if needed."
They tried to strike—SMACK!
Jian Mo slapped one, then two, then three... like swatting summer flies. The three warriors flew back, grimacing, then ran off in fear.
The merchant trembled and then hugged Jian Mo's feet. "Sir... this is all my money. Please take it!"
> "Keep it. But next time, don't trade with brainless warriors."
---
Meanwhile – At the Pavilion of Fire
Flames roared high in the grand hall. The walls were adorned with demon carvings and skulls. Sitting on the throne was an old man with long silver hair and piercing eyes: Yan Zhian, the Heavenly Demon, leader of the Demon Fire Sect.
Six sky-level warriors stood bowed before him.
> "Is it true that the chaos in Daeng City originated from our sect?" His voice was cold and terrifying.
One of the warriors replied, "My Lord, I believe it did come from our sect... but it seems they have betrayed us and allied with outside forces."
> "Betrayal..." Yan Zhian muttered, his eyes blazing like embers. "Investigate. Destroy them all. I will not allow a rotten thorn to grow in our sacred fire."
> "Understood, My Lord!" the sky-level warriors responded in unison.
---
The Murim world should have been peaceful.
Yet whispers of betrayal, the fog of ambition, and the remnants of a past that had not yet faded...
Would soon set everything ablaze once more.
And Jian Mo, the shadow who sought a peaceful life, might not be able to plant wheat forever.