Issho

"Phew." Issho slowly sheathed his sword.

"Uncle?" Li Ziming walked over. To be honest, this place had not left much of an impression on him. Perhaps the only thing that had truly stayed with him was the spectacular sword duel between Issho and Hattori.

"Kid, do me a favor. Can you bury Hattori?" Issho sat on the ground, looking exhausted.

"Okay." Li Ziming answered, then walked over to Hattori. "Just bury him like this?" he asked doubtfully. "Don't we need to do anything else?"

"No need." Issho shook his head. "Just bury him in that pit."

"Alright. What about this sword?" Li Ziming asked curiously. Hattori's sword looked like a fine blade.

"Stick it before his grave. Let that sword serve as his tombstone." Issho shook his head. "Now that Hattori is dead, this place will soon become desolate."

"Not necessarily." Li Ziming dragged Hattori with one hand. "Other people may come to this island and settle here someday. This island might come back to life again."

"But it would no longer be the same island. At least, everyone who originally lived here is dead." Issho shook his head. "When newcomers arrive, how many will remember that there was once a village here, filled with carefree people?"

"You remember, don't you?" Li Ziming dragged Hattori into the pit, then crouched down and began straightening Hattori's clothes.

"Perhaps you're right. After some time, perhaps I'll be the only one who remembers there was once a village here, and a man named Hattori." Issho smiled. "I remember how a wandering swordsman who chased after so-called justice like a fool became a blind swordsman."

"Oh?" Li Ziming grew curious. "Uncle, did you lose your eyes here?"

"Yes and no." Issho spoke slowly. "Didn't I tell you? When I was young, I was much