[Immature blurb] This is a story about ruin. History has always been a silent act of self-destruction: a death without beginning or end, without self or other, and an endless cycle without cause or consequence. The same scenes may have played out before, and those who come after will soon act them out again. We were once young swordsmen, dreaming of becoming flames that would consume the world, and vowing to avenge wrongs and destroy evil. A soft kiss at the neck, a fatal strike, one man slain every ten paces... And then, we became the souls claimed by our own swords. They say: The moon shines over an eternal night, and the Heavenly Way is constant. But in truth: Beneath the moon, eternal night is born, and the supposedly constant Heavenly Way is by nature ever-changing. And we, specks of dust in this world, are simply searching through the fog.
[Easy-to-understand version] Two villains with maxed-out scheming skills, mutually pining, flirting and hurting each other in a prince-and-princess revenge tale. Slow-paced, many characters, long, not abandoned. A work by an author in the terminal stages of chuunibyou. The author has a sound worldview, though the characters all have their own values. In general, good people get rewarded.
Historical setting: I actually wanted to write about the Tang dynasty, but my knowledge of history isn't up to scratch. Please let me know if there are any historical inaccuracies (though I did take a few artistic liberties). Corrections are always welcome.
