The Sword's Burial Song

[Traditional Fantasy] [Defying Fate] Ling Cang's bones sat cross-legged like stubborn stone. His remnant soul remained unruffled. His fingers felt the curled infant phantom of Wufeng, yet his gaze pierced through the curtain of water in the Sword-Washing Pool and straight toward the Celestial Ruins above: “If this sword of mine succeeds, a corner of the starry river above will be missing. If I fail... the sea of flowers on the other shore of the Nine Hells will gain another grave.” A lone wild goose treads three thousand realms of snow; his spine is Kunlun, his blade the moon! He swallowed the bone-eroding winds of the Nine Hells, drank down the heart-rending arts of the Yellow Springs, and forged sword scars into armor, bones into peaks. Rumors? Nothing but three flakes of snow on a sword tassel! The brothers' cups of turbid wine burn their guts; the cold gleam on his loved ones' blades reflects the sun and moon. Though the heavens calculate every tribulation and send down ash, I shall write the celestial wedge with my own cinnabar blood! The first tribulation pattern refines the Nether Palace; he devours stars and chews through constellations to forge his sword soul. The second tribulation fire burns the Violet Palace; lightning tempers his golden body as he knocks upon immortality's gate. When the third tribulation ends, his true nature is revealed: An open and honest heart is the edge of heaven's law; the two words “examine your heart” break open heaven's gate! Behold: Where the green blade drinks the snow, its cold gleam knocks the starry river down; When bare feet measure the heavens, bloody footprints burn into an eternal monument! Let the sun and moon bear witness, let the mountains and rivers attest: Where this body stands is the highest peak in the mortal world!