The three-story wooden pavilion exudes a sense of ancient weathering through time; at the window, a person leans.
"Eighth Sword Deity!"
Someone caught sight of the side profile and screamed out loud.
Standing by the window, Elder Dao the Flamboyant, no longer youthful, his face marked by time's chisel, gazes outward with a deep melancholy.
"Snow..."
He softly murmurs, reaching out his hand toward the outside.
The snowflakes floating down Lingyu Mountain gently land on his palm, dissolving not, as though time forever at peace.
"So quiet..."
In the midst of the great battle, everyone inexplicably felt a sense of tranquility and delight.
Following the wooden pavilion bearing the plaque "All Time Forgotten Sorrow Pavilion," following the gaze of the Eighth Sword Deity staring far from the window.
Everyone saw, not knowing when, the wind on Lingyu Mountain had stopped.
The snow fell silently, hitting the ground with a soft sizzle.
