Amid the drifting rain of light, Yan Chunhui lowered his head to look at the sword halted at his heart and understood that everything was over. For a moment, he felt strangely bereft—then he smiled... revealing an expression of blissful remembrance.
The Sword Lord drunk on wine, Self-Forgetful Man-Demon inviting the moon, flying swords spanning the Star River... so many breathtaking scenes passed vividly before him, as though saying that some regrets could be reclaimed.
Supernatural Power, South-Flying Geese.
Rewind causality.
The rain of light indeed abruptly stopped, then reversed. His body seemed to gather from the light, swiftly taking shape—
But it scattered again!
Flowing light and flying rain, the distant road had no appointed end.
At the moment Jiang Wang ascended to sainthood, the causality was far too immense. The whole world had fixed its gaze upon him; his sword bore an age... Such causality, Yan Chunhui could not push back!
Or perhaps, even if he did rewind causality... the momentum would still be unstoppable. Heaven still would not grant wishes.
He had actually known this already, but he still had to struggle, however futilely. For one like Yan Chunhui, whose resolve had endured for a thousand years, even seeing the coffin would not make him shed tears. Only after knocking out a few dull sounds from inside the coffin lid could it count as a final farewell.
At last, he revealed a relieved smile. Standing upon the flying sword in that instant of streaming light, he looked at Jiang Wang. "My path has yet to reach its end, while yours remains lofty and distant. I wish to ask: at today's Yellow River, what words do you intend to establish?"
Above his head lay the ever more distant starry sky, and the moon gradually fading into illusion.
His