A Sword Tilts to the West

A sword can span three thousand miles, and gods and ghosts cannot ask the Cangtian for help. In the long night beside the Fenglin volcano, drunken men carry pots and fight in all directions. Gratitude and resentment can be cut off with one sword, chivalrous and courageous. The soul in the dream does not know the way to a foreign country, and three cups of turbid wine comfort the lovesickness.