My name is Fei, a name that should be bright and brilliant. I don't like it.
I know that I am extremely famous, and the unsheathing of my sword has an unknown meaning - the sword comes out crimson, and the delicate hands take lives.
That's not what I thought. The ultimate bright red, soaking the sword body, singing with blood, is my destiny, starting from the first time I drank blood.
I don't understand why, among all the weapons, I am the "Magic Sword" that people have passed down by word of mouth. Just because the person who commented on the sword wrote a book, which destined me to be miserable in this world.
People's hearts are sinister, and they want to kill themselves, but they want me to bear this eternal stigma.