A Worry-Free Voyage

She crossed the Northern Icefields and the Southern Gobi. The icefields stretched vast, the Gobi lay under endless skies. Sword in hand, she measured the world step by step. She sang an old song softly, embracing rivers dyed green. She looked back on the bright days of the past, on the old road that was hard to travel. When falsehood is taken for truth, truth becomes false; where nothing is, there may be something, and where something is, there may be nothing. In this world of truth and lies, who is fortunate enough to see flowers through the fog? Red lotuses were embroidered into her bones, pure yet bewitching. Yet after three years of tempering, she emerged with a cold, proud strength. Nothing in this world could catch her eye again. “Who are you?” “Tang Wuyou.” “What sword do you wield?” “My sword is called Frostcold.” “Why have you come?” “I don't know.” “The people suffer, the masses are in distress, and you say you don't know?” “The people's suffering is great, but my strength alone is small.” “Then leave.” … “Tang Wuyou.” “Here.” “Why have you come?” “For the world.”