When the natal sword is a candied haws stick, Bai Yueguang naturally needs two to be sweet enough. Mu'er, a new disciple of Qingxu Sect, has three treasures: a crooked red headband, a candied haws stick that cannot be chewed, and legs that always love to run to the Yaolu Sword Tomb.
Everyone says that the way of heaven is ruthless, and the sword of destiny and the calamity of love are destined to conflict with each other. But when Mu'er stabbed the Jian Zun in the heart with a candied haws stick and pulled the young master of the Demon Sect's silver hair into a braid, the calamity clouds in the ninth heaven were trembling.
In the left hand is the cold-faced sword master's mirror that has been frozen for hundreds of years, reflecting the faded red rope in her hair; in the right hand is the first sugar jar in the medicine house that has been hidden for hundreds of years, soaked in blood-stained green plums. Mu'er scooped up a spoonful of hot syrup and drew a shocking secret on the bluestone: "Who said Bai Yueguang has to be broken into pieces? The natal sword cannot be boiled into sugar?"
When the three worlds were betting on who she would choose in the end, she shook her newly made sugar spoon and raised her eyebrows with a smile: "Today, this pot of sweet soup must be cooked with three souls boiling together and seven emotions boiling together!"
