Under Heaven, Untouched by Dust

"Blood on my collar?"The young scholar touched the red stain on his white silk, and smiled."Then every one of you will die." In a Jianghu where heroes wade through mud and bathe in blood, Gu Qingchen lives by one absolute law: nothing dirty shall ever touch him. At five years old, he watched the most beautiful swordsman he had ever seen get torn apart by a mountain lion, and learned that elegance without power is just meat on a plate. So he made an impossible vow: to become the most elegant man under heaven, and so terrifyingly strong that heaven itself cannot soil his sleeves. He trains like no cultivator before him. While others meditate on qi, he forges his body like iron, ten thousand push-ups from a madman's foreign manual, bones quenched in ice water until they ring like steel, a thousand sword thrusts before breakfast. He fights like no swordsman before him. While others scream and hack, he kills with a folding fan, a wooden measuring ruler, and perfect geometry, walking out of massacres without a wrinkle in his robes. And he travels like no one expects: down the 400-mile Grand Canal on a humble cargo barge, with his blacksmith father at the helm, his mother's warm porridge on the stove, a runaway healer girl at his side, and a drunk old boatman reading the water, straight through the corrupt heart of the Jianghu. But purity has a price. When blood finally stains his white silk, the demon god sleeping in his marrow wakes, white hair, red eyes, and a cold that freezes entire lakes solid.The empire calls him a monster. The sects call him a sovereign. His mother calls him home for dinner. Under heaven, untouched by dust. The most elegant swordsman under heaven has entered the Jianghu, and the mud is about to learn fear.