Clouds Rise over Xuancang

Last night, warmed by wine, I slipped into an old dream. With sword in hand, I had seen countless mountains and rivers.

A wisp of yellow sand reached toward the clouds. What could I do, after all those times when proud bones lay parched?

White blades drank in wind and snow; bloodied swords cleaved the sky.

This is a xianxia world brimming with warmth and hatred.