World

When I pierced the man's throat with the Moon Singing Sword in my hand, the man's blood flowed along the edge of the sword and then fell from my wrist drop by drop. His blood extended into a gurgling stream on the marble floor, like the gentle river I had heard and seen in Jiangnan since I was a child. The graceful and dignified stream spread out in all directions. I turned around and saw my mother's stunning face, her black hair flying in the steamy wind in the south of the Yangtze River. She smiled and said to me, Lianhua, this person is called Liao Zhan, the second killer in the south of the Yangtze River. Now he dies in your hands, and you will take his place. Mother's smile filled the air, and eventually became no longer clear, like an ancient ink painting, filled with thick moisture...