"By your cultivators' understanding... what exactly is 'fate'?"
"..."
Yan Feiqing fell silent. For two whole hours, not a word was spoken in the carriage. The autumn night was so still, with only the horses' hooves striking stone, their clopping like a tune.
As the verse went:
As friend and teacher, meeting and parting; one heart, one sword, darkness and light.
Last night, we raised our cups to the moon and poured our hearts out; the affairs of the world were never fixed.
Once more, a lone journey to the edge of the world; how often the Divine Capital appeared in dreams.
May smiles always bloom for the wandering swordsman; may you have no talent, but a life to live.
(End of volume two)
Volume two closing reflections
While writing, I really wanted to write a wrap-up. All kinds of reflections and new discoveries bubbled up like a spring. But once I finished, I was too lazy to pick up the pen again. Writing must cost mana. Finishing a climax is like unleashing an ultimate ability; afterward, you either meditate to recover mana, or all you can do is basic attack, basic attack, basic attack, basic attack.
Writing volume one was like building with blocks. First, I placed two flat rectangles on level ground, then stacked squares, diamonds, and whatever else on top. Finally, once they reached the same height, I laid a big triangle over the two pillars, and the house was done.
The author was a clumsy novice, sure, but this was the sort of shape a three- to five-year-old would build anyway. Stacking upward was the only way to do it, and no matter how clumsy you were, you couldn't possibly make it collapse.
But volume two became an extremely difficult game of Tetris.
Whoosh, whoosh,