She danced the silver sword in her hand and stabbed out a colorful move. In an instant, the sky was filled with peach blossoms and her clothes were stained with blood.
"Being able to die in your hands is the greatest happiness in my life," he murmured, and fell under her sword. From then on, Yin and Yang were separated, and love and hatred were no longer.
The country hates the family, and the blood debts are repaid with blood. Who owes whose happiness, and who owes whose infatuation. No matter love or hate, fate is supreme and fate reincarnates. No matter who joins hands with whom, it will always be nothing more than nothing.