In a scene like this, Pei Ye suddenly found himself missing Ming Qitian, unable to tell whether he missed the woman or her sword-whenever he remembered her fluttering robes, that celestial sword stroke always rose before his eyes; whenever he recalled that unattainable swordsmanship, her divine beauty always accompanied it in his mind.
Perhaps the woman and her sword had never been separate. He only wanted to see that immortal-like scene once more.
"Is this a sword?" The voice of the woman before him pulled him back. Zhang Junxue gazed upward in a daze, her eyes red-rimmed.
"Yes." Pei Ye nodded solemnly and gently, slowly extending a fist before her. "I think this is what you truly aspire to-one day, you too can create a saber stroke like this."
Yet Zhang Junxue did not respond at once.
She raised her hand a little, then lowered it again, even bowing her head.
Faced with such an unimaginable, incomprehensible, irresistible impact, even her tenacious confidence could not help wavering.
Pei Ye said nothing. He held his fist level and waited without moving.
At last, Zhang Junxue slowly raised her hand, growing steadier and steadier.
She lifted her eyes to meet his, her whole being seeming to have undergone a tempering and cleansing.
She slowly pressed her fist against the young man's and declared with ringing resolve, "One day, I too can create a saber stroke like this."
Thirteen hundred li west of Bowang Prefecture.
The sky grew higher, the clouds thinner, and the land gradually rose, vast and empty.
A vigorous figure on horseback raced across the land.
Though the sky and earth stretched boundlessly, at the scale of a single person, the way ahead was still all rolling slopes and gullies, hardly easy riding.
Fortunately, this great white horse was