Blue Stone Palace stood in the northeastern corner of the Great Qi Imperial Palace. Like an island in a sea of people, it was a scar upon this great city.
Time passed here with unusual clarity.
A sparrow perched atop the high wall, pecking at it regardless of the season, sharpening its pointed beak like a swordsman honing his blade.
A spider at the corner of the eaves let down a thread and slowly climbed down. No insect had been caught in its web for a long time; it hung empty and lonely.
A mighty eagle swept across the sky with wings outstretched. It flew over the deserted Changsheng Palace, then wheeled around and passed outside Huaying Palace.
Inside, Jiang Wuyou held a pair of swords and paced around the courtyard, making the blades flash like a downpour.
"This is his own affair. Let him choose for himself."
The white-haired old woman stood at the edge of the courtyard, holding a great halberd, and said nothing.
Through countless storms and years, she had watched this prince grow up, one step at a time, each step taken with confidence and resolve.
Sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, tridents... all eighteen kinds of weapons were as easy to wield as her own limbs. She walked the path of Dao Martial Arts with the heart of All-Under-Heaven.
The eagle's cry came and went, now near, now far.
The master of Yangxin Palace was home for once that day. He reclined on a soft couch, resting one hand against his cheek. His silk robe had slipped open over his body, revealing the defined lines of his chest.
He lifted the chin of the beautiful woman before him with one hand and merely smiled. "They watch the play; I watch the beauties. After all,