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 the carved leaf from his shoulder before looking at his own 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 in his hands.