At the summit of an imposing iron tower quietly stood a man of unimposing stature, his clothes comprising of nothing more than a sleeveless shirt, a pair of shorts and a pair of flip flops. A bag with red and blue lines in a pattern dangled from his shoulders, and he held a nearly extinguished cigarette butt between his fingers.

As he gazed at the picturesque scene of the city lights, scintillating in the distance, he slowly exhaled a puff of smoke. A trace of melancholy flashed through his placid and composed face. A light flick of his fingers launched the cigarette butt into the sky. The object traced a desolate arc, flickering for a brief moment under the nightly sky before what remained of it was claimed by the cold wind.

The man dropped the knit bag from his shoulder into his hand. Lifting his flip-flop adorned right foot, he took a step off the edge of the hundred meter tall tower, into the night sky immersed in the howlings of frigid wind. In the midst of his fall, a distortion surrounded his descending figure, and he reappeared standing at the bottom of the iron tower the next instant.

The irregular cadence of his flip-flops reverberated as he strolled. Between his steps, he brought out an empty plastic bottle and unhurriedly raised it to the side.

Plop!

Something fell out of the darkness, into the thin neck of the bottle with a barely audible noise  — the cigarette butt that the man had thrown earlier. With a smooth movement, the man rather carelessly tossed the plastic bottle containing the litter into a garbage can by the sidewalk. He marched until his silhouette vanished into the curtain of the night.

Meanwhile, inside a secret room within the city.

The top of an expensive round marble table reflected the dim lamplight. A middle-aged man dressed in an expensive suit furrowed his brows as he tapped rhythmically on the table with his fingertips.

"Why is he here?" The middle-aged man muttered to himself and the empty space around him. He lifted his hand, picked up the bottle of whiskey that was on the table and filled his glass halfway. As the man agitated the glass, the amber liquid swirled evenly within it, and a thin layer of condensation slowly climbed up the drinking glass as the warmth around it was siphoned away. The man finished off his glass of whiskey in a single gulp and shifted his attention to an empty chair in front of the table.

"He's not here for us. Otherwise, with his temper, he would have been here long ago." An unexpected answer to the man's question came from a vacant chair. It was a soft voice, charming and indolent like a moan. Another glance at the chair showed it to be completely empty.

"Even if he was merely passing by, two days has passed already. Could it be that there's something keeping him here?" asked the the middle-aged man, who was not surprised in the slightest by the strange situation, and continued to voice his doubt.  

"Whatever's on his mind, we can only guess," answered the the feminine voice without much intonation.

"Regardless, send out an order to halt all activities at hand and tell everyone to conceal themselves. Do not attempt to approach him or pry into anything. Nothing we do will escape his perception,"  ordered the middle-aged man as he filled his glass once again. Just like before, the lukewarm whiskey was chilled by threads of coldness that seemed to linger within the glass, never to fade away.  

"That project…"

"The project cannot be halted. We are going against nature. Once set into motion, it cannot be stopped or all of our efforts will be for naught. From now on, you'll be in charge of watching over the experiment. We've prepared for thirty years, that's too much time to afford even a single mistake right now."

"But he's here. Heaven's Laws…" the woman spoke hesitantly.

"Heaven's Laws do not govern him, and would not be able to govern him. Our preparations are enough to deceive Heaven's Laws. Monitor the experiment carefully and make sure that absolutely nothing goes wrong."

"Fine, I only hope that nothing unexpected will arise."

The click-clack of high-heels resounded through the hall before gradually fading into the distance. The empty seat became as silent as if it had always been empty.

At the same time, in a faraway seaside town, a man attired in a Taoist robe sat cross-legged in a shabby apartment. He possessed handsome and bright features, a well-built physique and a crew-cut that gave off a fresh and cool impression. Yet the resolute planes of his cheeks revealed a scholarly countenance.

Three objects laid on the floor before him: the tip of a broken blade, indigo remains from a shattered gourd and a broken mask to which a yellow ribbon was attached.

The man slowly raised his hand. The space above his palm rippled and an miniature sword emerged from his skin. There was a restrained splendor to it, a daintiness from its size and its jewel-like appearance. The hilt, smooth as if it was carved from jade, was decorated with a yin-yang symbol. The blade, seemingly made of jadeite, was densely decorated with inscriptions.

"Soon, the day will come. I hope that he didn't lie to me, but if what he said is true, then what do all these years amount to…" said the man as he stared at the longsword floating in his palm. For a long while afterwards, he didn't utter a word. Finally, his gaze came to rest on the old remnants in front of him as he was gripped by emotions so complicated, words would not suffice to describe them.

Rants Corner

Grenn: Hehehe! I'm so happy to be able to translate and bring this novel to everyone. It's a completely different genre from Bone Painting Coroner, but not any worst. I have to say that Sundering Nature is a gem not only because of the plot-driven story. It's also due to how the author can fused the satire of society (mainly asian) by highlighting the struggles and growing maturity of the protagonist as he experiences many situations and journeyed through a life that is no longer mundane.