Just as a certain scholar stayed awake the whole night, sitting by the edge of a Heart Lake, hugging his legs and staring down at the water, questioning himself time and again.
Not far from him, on the lakeside high building, there was a purple-robed sword spirit sitting on the railing of the top floor.
It casually swung its long legs, while observing the roaming flood dragons in the lake and occasionally glancing at the silent and introverted back of the man by the lakeside.
The sword spirit nodded slightly.
It more and more felt that a certain person was suitable for the path of dark arts.
Unfortunately, he couldn't embark on it at the moment.
The sword spirit suddenly looked to the bottom of Heart Lake… only seventy-two malicious flood dragons remained.
...
In the west wing room, three people dreamt, a night passed with no words exchanged.
Morning.
