On West Street of Qingwu City, the Shi family took away the last volume of tablet rubbings left by Jiang Yan's father. Blood fell on the paper, tens of thousands of monuments appeared in his body, and an unknown sword light cut off the Dandy's sword; from that day on, there was always a sentence in his ears: the borrowed money must be repaid.
The old man told him that it was Jianxu. Swords that have died throughout the ages have monuments erected inside. Every time you borrow a sword, you have to pay the price of spiritual thoughts, life span and a memory to finish the unfinished business for the sword owner.
Jiang Yan originally just wanted to erect a monument for his father, find out the names that had been erased, and let the Shi family kneel down again. But what the Shi family grabbed was not the inscription, but the blank space on the paper. The three bowls on Lao Cui's stove were still there, but the mother-in-law couldn't tell who the third bowl was for. He remembered the names of the dead, all the way from the small town of Qingwu to the top of the Nine Ruins.
When he remembered it on himself, he realized that it was not natural disasters that cut off Dao Tian, but people; those things that had been erased were coming back one by one.
"I will remember it."——Jiang Yan
