Broken Sword*****

In this world, everyone is missing half of their bones and half of their souls. A young man, his family disappeared overnight, Holding a broken sword and wearing a white shirt, A man goes to the sect alone and swears to ask God, When you meet a brother, you get a beauty. Finally, he faced the abyss and killed the sky. The rugged back mountain path, The young man put on the broken sword and left the horse. Without him, Just because he wants to walk slowly, nostalgic for the secular youth along the way for the last time. He knew that at the end of the road, apart from cultivation, there was only endless killing. On the path of a cultivator, who dares to say that the years are quiet and the flowers are blooming in spring. The broken sword at his waist is his only attachment and concern. Because, last night he saw a name, So, he wants to find that him. Missing is the rain of finding belonging, The waves are flying all over the sky, Choice is the wind that never looks back, The sand was scattered all over the ground. Today, this journey has nothing to do with practice and everything to do with saying goodbye.