On the edge of the cliff, he was dressed in white and she was dressed in green. Standing with the sword in hand, he was relatively speechless. After a while, I don't know who made the move or who raised the sword. The two figures were fighting each other, and their killing moves were merciless. In the light of swords and shadows, the sun rises and sets, the sun sets and the sun rises. In the end, she was defeated. Her hair and sweat clung to her cheeks, making her look extremely pale. The tip of his sword stayed in front of her, making no move. He just said lightly: You lost. Just as he was about to take back the sword, he saw her right hand holding the sword tightly, blood flowing between her fingers. He frowned, but did not dare to make any further movements. She smiled and brought the sword closer to her inch by inch, and then stabbed the sword into his chest very quickly. Blood spurted out and dyed the corners of his clothes red. With an unprecedented panic on his face, he stepped forward quickly, only to see her jump and fall into the cliff together with his sword. He stretched out his hand but only caught a drop of clear tears. On the edge of the cliff, he was left alone to rip his heart out.