The hand holding the sword trembled slightly.
Not from fear or shivering, but from excitement.
The bloom of that sword, the grace of that stroke...
Like a blood-red spider lily bursting into bloom, a red higanbana swaying gently.
The rampant blood, the slippery innards.
Everything the hand touched, the sword passed, the feet trod upon, the knees nudged against, all snapped and whirled, the sword sung sharp, each strike resonated, blending into the music of heaven, as graceful as the dance of a Heavenly Person.
So beautiful... So good...
The woman revealed a hint of a smile, as if the moon had risen with the tide.
It was the blush on her face, the blood tide on the ground, and that mysterious smile at the corner of her mouth. Her face was as pale as the moon stained with blood, her body was like the Qingyun reflected in red.
