The Sword God's Graffiti

Chen Xiaodao's greatest skill is dodging debts. He can hide in a crack in the city wall all day, scale the back wall of Sanjiao Alley without a speck of dust, and say 'I'll pay you back someday' better than a song. Until one day, fleeing from debt collectors, he climbed the shabbiest section of Tianjing City's wall, saw an old sword scar, and on a whim carved four characters: 'The Sword God Was Here.' He thought it was just a casual scratch, but those words spread faster than wildfire. Storytellers turned it into a tale, the Sword Sect sent an invitation, and even the Brocade Guard's riders watched him from the shadows. Everyone said: The Sword God has returned. But the problem is—he's never even touched a sword. 'Misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding,' Chen Xiaodao said. No one believed him. A street thug who wouldn't even kill a chicken was thrust onto the throne of the Sword God. He wanted to run, but found a crowd behind him—the innkeeper who cleaned up his mess, the blacksmith's apprentice who actually practiced the sword techniques he made up on the spot, and ordinary people who saw him as their last hope. A withered branch repels enemies, nameless sword techniques, an absurd drama on the dueling platform. This martial world, he must walk it whether he likes it or not. 'I am not the Sword God, but the people behind me—I will protect them.'