Cold winds blow through the Unclean Valley, leaving no room for the bygone summer. Orange leaves gradually fall to the ground, covering it with a warm blanket before the onset of harsh winter. Nie Mingjue’s fingers, roughened by long training, remove a carved leaf from his shoulder before looking at his wife. “It is cold now. You don’t need to watch me train at the expense of your health,” Mingjue mutters, holding a heavy saber.