Forging the Moon into a Blade

"I want to rebuild this world."

"Do as you wish."

"One puppet dies, and another is born."

"Then how do you know you aren't the newly born puppet?"

Look, you see not:

An immortal's bones above the Ninth Heaven, all turned to fireflies in my palm.

Look, you see not:

A blood moon burns the sky and changes its skin, yet it insists on playing pure and clear.