The mortal road, the earthly immortal, all things are bound by fate.
Ink-scented scrolls, swords at my back, I care not for warmth or cold.
First, a bright pearl fell into the mortal world, startling a young man.
Then, a red sword danced through the empty sky, a glimpse of breathtaking beauty at dusk.
Most of all, an exiled immortal came to cherish the human world, and would not let this life go to waste.
When fate has already been decided, can what we go through still be called devotion? When every choice means giving something up, who can tell right from wrong? If loss is the road to growing up, then may I remain young forever!
