"My blade exists to kill!"
Sword Master in the Snow snapped his eyes open, and a fierce killing intent erupted from him.
The sword energy within him surged wildly, pressing toward his center as he tried to force it into shape.
Pfft.
He spat out another mouthful of blood.
The energy he had gathered halfway collapsed even more completely than before. Violent sword energy tore through his meridians, sending pain through his entire body.
"Wrong."
Qin Chuan's voice sounded beside his ear, devoid of emotion.
"Killing is only what a blade does. It isn't what a blade is."
Sword Master in the Snow clutched his chest, his face full of frustration and confusion.
"Then what is it?"
"Your blade is too rigid." Qin Chuan did not answer directly. Instead, he looked at the long saber in the man's hand. "You give it meaning only when you need to kill. At any other time, it's just a piece of ordinary iron."
Sword Master in the Snow froze.
He looked down at the saber that had accompanied him all this way. Now, it seemed unfamiliar.
Too rigid...
He thought of Dawn.
Dawn's speed was still speed even when he had no target to attack.
He thought of Mirror.
Mirror's illusory nature was the essence of who she was, not merely a means of fighting an enemy.
But what about his blade? His wind?
What should wind be?
Wind was free, unbound, able to slip through any opening.
It could be a gentle breeze or a hurricane that tore everything apart.
Yet his blade had learned only the hurricane's violence and forgotten the breeze's nimble grace.
He had always used his blade to command the wind, forgetting that he himself was wind.
The blade was only one form the wind could take.
"I