A single sword thrust drew out a drop of tears.
Ning the Swordsman's sword style was born of a woman's resentment.
This move, "Regret Teaching My Husband to Seek a Title," turned love into resentment. It was a stroke of innate perfection.
It followed seamlessly from the previous "Autumn Ripple Sword," and then elevated it even further.
Like a scholar sweeping his brush across the page, a brilliant line had come to him by happy chance. It struck a chord in the hearts of countless parting lovers, to be sung down through the ages.
And Jiang Wang's response was still just as ingenious.
It was like a pair of lovers, now at odds, carrying on a conversation. Like a passage that picked up where the last left off and led into what followed. Like a story unfolding before their eyes...
You gazed at me with rippling eyes; I drifted with the waves.
You resented me for vanishing for years without a word, for caring only about fame and fortune, for forgetting an old friend.
But throughout all those years I wandered, adrift and far from home...
I never won a title, either.
I had only ten years of hardship and half a lifetime of misery. Now that you had come to call me to account, I swept my sword across, settling our grudges and debts with a single stroke—life for life.
That horizontal line unfurled through the air.
Like a man, drunk and merry, suddenly taking up his brush to write.
It cleaved the single "tear" Ning the Swordsman had cut forth into two!
Brilliant! Simply brilliant!
Ning the Swordsman was immersed in the wondrous harmony of their sword styles, as if she had found a kindred spirit at the ends of the earth. A powerful rush of emotion was