Morning after morning, light shimmered in the faint dawn breeze,
Evening after evening, haze gathered beneath the cold yellow sun.
Brimming, unsteady, human souls broke,
Hesitant, faltering, brocade letters lay torn.
The Human Book was bitter, the world's words sour,
White threads were hard to scatter, the Mortal World easy to become entangled in.
Silken cords stretched long, brush and inkstone fell short,
Mountains and rivers were easy to paint, their bitterness hard to murmur...
That sword fell like the dying sun striking the earth, severing the Red Mist in two.
Yet countless living beings within it also dissolved into nothingness.
National Fortune became the Ends of the Earth, dividing the Ninth Heaven into two shores.
The Human Emperor's sword of National Fortune Power shattered into pieces in Su Mo's hand and fell through the void...
The ends of the earth shattered; the corners of the seas sank.
When the dust settled, the people looked up and saw only the white-clad figure sitting lifelessly in the void.
The dragon patterns on his white robes had vanished, leaving only an air of twilight years about the man in white...
They had thought Heaven-Severing would bury only National Fortune, never imagining it would also bury the white-clad Human Emperor's long years of life...
Those countless strands of Soul Incense merged into the white-clad figure's body, twining their countless sorrows around his heart as well.
Was it bitter? Of course it was bitter?
But what choice did he have?
When the Confucian Sage slaughtered the countless living beings within the Divine Realm ten thousand years ago, had he felt the same?
Su Mo swayed, his expression desolate as he gazed at the newly formed World Barrier, which had devastated heaven and earth and stretched for who knew how far.
In the end, he