Moon!
Moonlit night!
A cold moon hung alone, like a gleaming silver blade flying through thin clouds, washing the boundless wilderness with its watery, chill radiance.
The wind blowing across the wilderness sounded like a knife lightly scraping cardboard, like an abandoned woman sobbing in grief, and even more like a poem—a poem written by Heaven and Earth. The essence of that poem was Heaven and Earth's indifference, and the loneliness of the mortal world.
Yet how many could truly understand it?
Jiang Dali sat in the wilderness, thirty zhang away from Xiao Sanxiao, silently wiping the Dali Fire Qilin Saber.
A blade was a weapon of slaughter and needed no wiping. Every great battle was a cleansing; only a blade washed in blood would become fiercer.
But Jiang Dali was not wiping the blade. He was wiping his heart.
Wiping the blade was questioning the heart.
Before an impending great battle, the most important contest between masters was no longer one of methods or martial arts, but of the heart.
If the heart faltered, defeat came before battle.
Thus, though Jiang Dali knew full well that the Great Demon God, Xiao Jingtian, was at his strongest in the darkness, he had no intention of deliberately avoiding a night battle with him.
If he avoided it, he would surely lose. A flaw would already have appeared in his heart before the battle even began. When masters crossed hands, what they fought for was precisely such seemingly insignificant flaws.
Xiao Sanxiao clearly understood this as well. Aside from preparing to tell Jiang Dali about some martial arts practiced by Xiao Aoshi and his brother that required caution, he did not intend to say much more. He did not even mention the secret that Xiao Jingtian would become stronger at night. His