Sword cultivators are obsessed with their blades, yet they are also deeply enamored with beauty. As the saying goes, a hero loves a fine sword, and a beauty loves a hero. But surely, a hero loves a beauty just as much. In this world, how many instances of unrequited love exist? How much helplessness and heartache? How many heroes have bowed before a beautiful face, and how many have traveled to the ends of the earth in pursuit of the ethereal dream of immortality? Looking back, they find neither immortality nor love, only the constant companions of helplessness and sorrow.
The melodious sound of the flute, accompanied by Senior Sister Wang’s graceful dancing, resonated instantly with the surrounding crowd. The melody mirrored their current situation: waiting outside the ruins, the dangers ahead unknown, yet compelled to risk everything for the sake of an elusive immortality and the beloved who dwells in their hearts. If one were to return safely, one could finally confess to their beloved. But should they never return, they could only hope that the moonlight would keep their loved one company.
Because the tune fit the moment so perfectly, many sword cultivators found their pent-up emotions released. For those with iron wills, the music instead fortified their Dao hearts, allowing them to break through their barriers immediately.
Chapter 382