Thrown from spring back into winter, Pei Ye stood before the broken gate of the Bright Moon Palace, rubbing his brow to alleviate the symptoms of dizziness.
Then he leaned against the doorframe, silently took his sword and gazed at it, holding the blade horizontally before his eyes, the reflected light casting into his pupils.
He was preparing with utmost seriousness—firstly, earnestly telling himself that he must kill Wei Qingju.
This determination should approach the intensity of that day when ascending the Jade Sword Platform, and the fervor for killing should resemble the approach to Wu Zaigu.
Then he adjusted every state of his body, methodically smoothing over every muscle strand, soothing them into a state of calm readiness, like cavalry lying in ambush within the dim and dense forest, just awaiting the wave of a small flag.
Lastly, he equipped himself with his sword.
