"By day, the Golden Hall was a drunkard's paradise; by dusk, the falling waterfall spoke of life's twilight. In youth, I grasped early that the Heavenly Dao was hard, yet even now I remain busy with the sword! Beitang Sword Dao! Sword Rain, scatter!" Jian Beitang lowered her wine jug, but that did not mean she would stop. Her third sword song began at once, her voice like water, turning the sailing ship around. This sudden change was likely because the alcohol's effects had begun to fade, and she was gradually sobering up.
When drunk, one forgets one's worries; when sober, one is beset by sorrow. Jian Beitang was the same. Her first two sword songs had been like adding oil to a raging fire, setting the sky ablaze and forcing me into absolute defense. But this sword song changed abruptly, carrying a sorrowful, self-mocking air.
By day, she had thought the Golden Hall was the finest place to drink. At night, even a waterfall plunging into a pool made her feel the vicissitudes of life slipping away, just as she had understood in childhood how arduous the Heavenly Dao was. Yet here and now, she was still exhausting herself in the futile pursuit of the sword. She was still the Jian Beitang who drank and killed immortals, but she had not become someone else.
Nor had she become what she wished to become.
A sparse Sword Rain slowly fell. It did not merely land on me—it also landed on me. I stood with my sword condensed, poised to strike, but that did not stop me from speaking with her. "Jian Beitang. Do you want to become a new person? Do you want to live once more? Instead of being the Jian Beitang who gets drunk and kills immortals, how