阿狗提着个旧皮囊， streets of the Jianghu city were bustling. Merchants, ruffians, and scholars mingled, each with their own agenda. The city was a hive of activity, but for a kid like me, it was just a place to find food and shelter.

I was a lowly apprentice, trying to make ends meet with the meager skills passed down by my ancestors. My family's martial arts were nothing special—just basic stances and punches that could, at best, scare off a mugging beggar. But the Jianghu was a land of tough guys and mighty warriors. The slightest mistake could get you beaten up, or worse.

I was wandering the crowded streets, looking for a place to eat when I bumped into a stout man. "Watch it, kid," the man grumbled, shoving me aside.

I cursed him under my breath and muttered an apology, but he didn't even hear. He was already gone, leaving me to deal with the repercussions. I scurried away, feeling foolish and humiliated. The Jianghu was unforgiving. No matter how hard you tried, you could always end up worse off than before.