I raised the withered, broken branches. The dead iron orchids fell one by one onto my shoulders, then drifted on the desert wind and sand onto my Moon-Burial Sword, the blade stained with my mother's and Zilan's blood. Behind me, the Moon-Singing Sword seemed to weep softly. I could almost see my father wielding the Moon-Burial Sword across the desert. The image remained so vivid. Beneath my father's aged face, I waited there in silence. The orchids flew through the sky on the desert gale and fell upon the two swords steeped in slaughter.
Petals flutter down, covering the swords...
What a heartbreaking sight. In these troubled times, where can these assassins go? Feuds in the jianghu set the land ablaze, the nation is in turmoil, and the people are destitute. Love between men and women cannot free them from the bonds of fate. Life and death are separated by a hair's breadth. I ask the vast earth who will rule its fate today, and I know that Heaven has already ordained the answer.
What are these political puppets, the assassins' fates, and their pursuit of becoming the world's foremost, like the moon shining over the earth?
What, exactly, is Moonlight Burial Flowers? Is it the burial of flowers? Is it nothing more than moonlight and flowers buried? That's right. Two blooming flowers died at the height of their beauty, hoping to become like the moon. And so they became part of history, unknown to all.
