Wind stirs the blossoms—a realm of fleeting illusions. At the edge of Peachgrove Pass, jianghu wanderers gathe…
Wind stirs the blossoms—a realm of fleeting illusions.
At the edge of Peachgrove Pass, jianghu wanderers gather and fade. No names, no pasts, only the present.
Somewhere beneath the bloom, the Golden Peach sleeps. One player exits, the next steps in. For a taste of legend, every hand reveals its sharpest edge.