"Though parting takes but one thread, its occasions span ten thousand kinds. There are dragon steeds with silver saddles, vermilion carriages with embroidered wheels; farewell feasts beneath eastern capitals, guests seen off at Golden Valley. Zithers struck and flutes and drums laid out; songs of Yan and Zhao lament fair beauties. Pearls and jade shine bright in late autumn; gauze and silk lend charm to early spring. Startling tethered steeds into raising their feed, stirring abyssal fish to lift their crimson scales. At the moment of parting, tears are held back; in solitude, the spirit is wounded..."
Zhang Tie wielded his sword with his heart, entered spirit through the sword, becoming one with blade and body. His entire state of mind entered a strange realm, still as an ancient well without a ripple. Though trapped within the Trinity Battle Formation of three Devil Race Earth Knights, waves of sword light rippled around Zhang Tie. Like a lotus blooming from mud, he moved freely, unimpeded. With his song, the sword in his hand sometimes surged like a dragon steed galloping, sometimes rose from the abyss like crimson-scaled fish. Spring breezes and autumn hues appeared within its radiance; zithers, flutes, and drums resounded within its cry. Its intent held back tears and wounded the soul. Sword light whirled, splendor like a dream. Though amid armies beyond count, he remained aloof and solitary, keeping company only with his lone shadow beneath the stars...
Under sword light born of such a battle technique, the formation of the three Devil Race Earth Knights was like a rotten net trying to trap a dragon—it was on the verge of collapse as soon as Zhang Tie's line of song ended.
Yet the Trinity Battle Formation of the three Devil Race Earth Knights did not collapse. Instead, it