The violet jade circle exhaled a dismal wind that seemed to chill the very soul. A lone figure in black appeared on the rooftop, and in his outstretched hand a talisman flickered like a captive star.
As the final chapter of Purple Jade Rising Smoke recounts, Mei Xiaolan burst into the chamber only to see Xu Yifei and Yuan Yunfeng dissolve into motes of light and drift away. She rushed forward—but they had already vanished. Only the moon's pale glow streamed through the window, pooling on the floor like liquid silver.
Unbeknownst to her, a century-old upheaval was about to shatter the world of martial sorcery—and the destinies of Xu and Yuan would be forever altered. Even now, a band of young heroes was rising, their fates written in the constellations. They would slay demons, right great wrongs, and bring to life the wondrous Tales of City Heroes. What follows is how their legend truly began.
———
Late spring's dusk settled over Jiangdong's glittering seaside metropolis. Atop a thirty-six-story skyscraper stood a lone youth—sleek-featured, keen-eyed, dressed simply yet radiating a quiet confidence. As the sun slid beneath the horizon, burning clouds faded to indigo, and one by one the city's lights blinked on. He stared, expressionless, until distant thunder rumbled and thick storm-clouds rolled in.
"It's time." He muttered to himself, drawing from his pocket a small booklet. With practiced precision he flipped through its pages, then withdrew an octagonal disc of purple jade, held it aloft, and murmured an incantation.
A forked lightning bolt cleaved the sky above the tower, followed instantly by a deafening roar. A cold wind whipped the rooftop, and a single point of light—no larger than a firefly—rose from the stone and hovered, flickering in the gathering storm.
From his belt the youth produced a tiny gourd, removed its stopper, and watched as the spectral light darted inside—like an arrow finding its mark. He resealed the vessel, tucked it back, and exhaled a long, satisfied breath.
He turned toward the stairwell. Lightning still spiked the darkening heavens, thunder growling in the distance. Wordlessly, he descended, winding through the city's ancient alleyways—narrow, dusty lanes that crisscrossed like a silken web, ensnaring all who lived within.
No moon or stars shone above—only rolling rain clouds. No other soul stirred in these forgotten streets. The youth alone threaded his path toward the old quarter's relics: ancestral halls, temples, and Taoist shrines, each a sanctuary for worshippers on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month.
He paused before the weather-worn gate of the old city god temple. A gentle knock, and inside he heard quick, eager footsteps. The gate swung open to reveal an elderly Taoist, face lined with years and redolent of strong wine. The youth wrinkled his nose. "Master, how many cups tonight?"
The old Taoist chuckled. "And you? How many souls did you bind this night?"
The youth proffered his gourd. "Just one—a sorcerer of the Kunlun school hiding in the Orchid Star Inn. His soul is secured. Three more await tomorrow."
A sudden downpour began, drumming over stone tiles. The old man ushered him inside the east hall. "Your Grandmaster has arrived. He awaits within."
Overjoyed, the youth pushed past him, bowing deeply before a raven-clad figure seated by a lacquered table. "Disciple Ouzhengqing greets Master!"
The man in black—handsome, poised, no older than thirty—smiled. "While I was away, did you heed Master Ma's counsel?"
Before Ouzhengqing could reply, the old Taoist stroked his beard. "Zhengqing has grown adept at shadow-walking and still finds time to entertain an old man's endless chatter!"
Their laughter faded. The man in black gestured to the soul record. "Well done. Any complications? Walking the spirit path isn't to be taken lightly. One misstep in the ledger, and the nether world claims you."
Ouzhengqing grinned and brandished the jade disc. "With this Recycle Disk, binding souls is effortless!"
Master Ma's brow furrowed. "Even so, beware. There are talismans that counter the Recycle Disk. What then, if you meet one?"
The youth shrugged. "I've never encountered one." Then he flashed the man in black a cheeky wink. "And if I fail… I'll have you to back me up, Master!"
The man in black's expression softened. "Your successes are your own," he said. "Now go and complete your tasks. And next time—no relying on me."
"Understood, Master!" Ouzhengqing tucked the record under his arm and raced out into the storm.
The man in black watched him disappear, then sighed. He turned to Master Ma. "My disciple… he lacks the talent I once hoped for. How can he inherit the legacy of Cuishensi?"
Master Ma smiled. "Fate wove him to your purpose. You two are bonded by destiny…"
At that moment, the soul record glowed, revealing new lines of script in its margins. The two elders exchanged knowing glances—another summons had begun.
And so the hidden struggle in the shadows of the martial world unfolded…