Yun Liuguang's sword scattered through the night like starlight.
The ruined Heaven-Reaching City once again fell silent.
A faint night wind drifted past. The celestial clouds above seemed to still be savoring the afterglow of the fierce battle, while Song Ciwan, hovering in the Void, was trying to perceive a different, strange rhythm.
'What is it?'
'Is Yun Liuguang dead?'
'No, that last sword strike—'
'That last strike... its bones were forged from conviction, its soul from the mortal body, its brush from the passage of time, and its script was written with the Sword Intent of emotionlessness...'
'It was the Emotionless Dao, yet it was also a Dao of feeling.'
'As the saying goes, the Dao is emotionless, yet it possesses emotion. This sword held no personal feelings for others or for the self, but it possessed a great love for the world and for the Sword Dao!'
'A strike like this was just as Yun Liuguang had said: a gamble for rebirth from the jaws of death.'
