Years later, he stood at the pinnacle of this world, wielding his pen like a sword to pierce the world's illusions, delusions, and hypocrisy. When he stood atop the tower and saw countless numb, pallid living dead, neither truly alive nor dead, he understood one thing: all who come and go do so for profit, and all who seek profit are driven by desire.
That year, in the bitter winter's dark night, snow fell. He tried to plant himself in winter, with Xihe as his companion and Wangshu as his friend, waiting for the brilliance of spring to shine upon him. What dazzled the eye was not the sun of that winter, but the sight of him wielding himself as a sword, battling Heaven, Earth, and himself, and taking endless joy in it.
In the end, he defeated that winter.
Because his name was Chen Gong, Chen Gong who made himself into a sword.
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
