Yu Penglai comes from ten thousand years in the future. He has lived for millennia, wielding immortal arts beyond mortal comprehension. Fifty years ago, he used his divine power to lift a beggar to the throne. That man became the founding emperor of Great Liang, and they made a pact: in sixty years, Yu Penglai would return. He returned. The emperor was dying. On his deathbed, the old ruler commanded his son and daughter to kneel before Yu Penglai, and decreed that all future generations must honor him as their master. But the new emperor, Gu Linghao, was young and proud. He could not bear to kneel. He sent assassins. They died. In rage, he seized Yu Penglai’s walking stick and shattered it with his sword. The walking stick cracked. Heaven answered. The Empress Dowager dropped dead on the spot. Three provinces rose in rebellion. The empire trembled. Gu Linghao realized his mistake—too late. Yu Penglai turned and walked away. It was the princess, Gu Lingxue, who knelt in the street. She offered to bear all punishment herself, for the sake of her people. Moved by her sincerity, Yu Penglai spoke: “From now on, you are my walking stick.” He chose to stand by her. A million enemies marched from the north. Their saintess challenged the court to three contests. Yu Penglai shattered ancient puzzles with a single kick, pierced through stone with a weapon from the future, and silenced an army with a song. The saintess knelt and swore to serve him. But shadows gathered. The second prince murdered his brother and seized the throne. He summoned a sword master to challenge Yu Penglai—only for the master to discover that her sect’s founding ancestor was Yu Penglai himself. She knelt and begged to become his disciple. The prince forged rifles. Yu Penglai caught a bullet between two fingers. When the prince took his own sister hostage, Yu Penglai moved faster than the eye could see. The fight was over before it began. Yu Penglai placed Gu Lingxue on the throne. The first empress of Great Liang. His task complete, he removed the black veil from his eyes, revealing his true face for the first time. Then he walked away, alone into the distance. The saintess and the sword master chose to follow. And so the immortal wandered the world with his companions, leaving behind only a line of verse, spoken with a smile: History remembers but a few names; countless souls rest beneath the ancient hills.
