In my dream, I lit a lamp and watched the sword—but the sword broke.
Thus, Wang Xian continued dreaming, his spirit wandering who knew how many tens of thousands of miles.
In his dream, it seemed he had crossed the Bridge of Helplessness, yet it also seemed he had not.
But it made him understand one thing: the woman he had encountered in Gloom City was Meng Po of the Forgetting River.
Since she was an old acquaintance, Wang Xian relaxed. With so many debts, there was no point worrying; he could repay them slowly in the future.
Besides, he had not been stingy with that divine flower in the slightest. Instead, he had shared it with Meng Po.
Who cared where this dream would lead?
At dawn, a ray of sunlight spilled over the little courtyard.
In Sword City, deep in Apricot Blossom Alley, the tavern keeper had no idea where he had picked up a little eagle. He was currently wiping the creature's wounds.
The little eagle kept its eyes closed, enduring wave after wave of pain, yet it remained as aloof as a crescent moon.
It seemed to think the old man tending its wounds was only right and proper. The old man was not angry either, as though life had been too lonely and he had finally found something amusing to do.
Humming an unknown tune, he applied healing medicine to the eagle's wounds.
As he bandaged it, he consoled it, "Good thing you ran into me. Otherwise, with those few pounds of flesh, I'd have been too lazy even to bring you home and boil you into soup."
The shop assistant was even lazier than the tavern keeper.
After getting up in the morning to sweep the courtyard and mop the floor, he simply leaned