The Lone Sword Is Not Lonely

Peach wine, plum wine, pear blossom wine, poured into jade cups to forget the debts of love. Long swords, short swords, swords in both hands, drawn from my cold scabbard to bring order to a troubled age. This martial world is so bleak. It has its share of dashing gallants and women whose beauty could outshine the moon, yet there are so many trapped by fate, so many hearts torn to pieces. It has so many masters with transcendent abilities and so many talents who look down on the world, yet everywhere lie bones frozen to death, everywhere the sorrow of those driven from their homes... And yet this martial world is so wonderful. There are so many treacherous hearts, so many cunning, deceitful people, yet there is also so much goodness and gentleness, so many friends who understand one another completely. There are petty villains and shameless scoundrels everywhere, yet there are also so many loyal, steadfast heroes and virtuous people... My sword rests in its gourd, wine fills my cup, and someone is by my side. This lonely sword of mine, it seems, is no longer alone.