Sunset clouds stretched for ten thousand miles.
The fleet of the Upper Right Thousand-Household Commander Office docked at Huai'an to replenish its supplies.
Yang Ge lay on the cabin roof with his arms beneath his head. In his ears rang distant bursts of laughter as Fang Ke dealt with the officials of Huai'an; before his eyes spread brilliant sunset clouds that stained half the sky red; beneath him, the great ship rose and fell gently with the waves...
Neither asleep nor awake, caught in a haze between dream and waking, he felt as though all his worries and regrets had suddenly vanished.
Only a single thread of pure awareness remained, dancing freely along the strands of memory.
In his daze, he seemed to see Old Six Ma's final strike again.
That mighty strike... which had raised a water dragon several yards high!
Within his mind, that strike froze.
The surrounding colors and scenery were stripped away, one after another.
Only that streak of Blade Qi remained, spanning a pitch-black space like a beam of light.
He stared blankly at it, his scattered thoughts taking a long time to register what he was doing...
Then understanding suddenly struck. He jolted upright and blurted, "A flood! That strike was a flood!"
As though he had seized hold of something, he sprang down from the cabin roof. His toes touched the deck lightly, and he swept nimbly past a Strongman standing guard.
Clang.
A clear ring sounded as a saber left its sheath. The Strongman instinctively slapped his waist, only to find an empty scabbard. Looking closer, he saw a familiar figure leap into the air, gripping a gleaming, iron-hilted Ox-Tail Saber.
"Break!"
Clinging to that flash of inspiration, Yang Ge roused his Inner Qi and brought the saber down.
A brilliant streak