"Good sword." She spoke with difficulty, her throat filled with a metallic taste. Just now, Yang Guo had used only a fraction of his strength, yet it was enough to make her internal organs churn.
Guo Fu gently applauded, her laughter crisp: "Master Kumei, back in the day, my husband used this wooden sword to defeat the Golden Wheel Dharma King."
Yang Guo smiled faintly, the wooden sword slipping into his sleeve: "Master, you let us win. Remember our one-year agreement." With that, he turned and left hand in hand with Guo Fu, disappearing into the misty twilight.
Master Kumei stood watching the direction of their departure, motionless for a long time.
The mountain wind carried snowflakes, landing on her stiff fingertips. In a daze, she seemed to see again the sword light cutting through the twilight—realizing that a truly supreme sword technique never needed complicated moves, just one sword was enough to make the world lose its color.
…
…
