Chapter 143
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Chapter 143: The Clear Heart of the Sword
Mu Xuan Ye’s figure materialized in the room as spiritual energy swirled around her, her aura sharp and profound. The oppressive presence of a powerful ally enveloped Ming He, silently weighing on her heart and saturating the air with a heavy, suffocating tension.
She stood casually, her grace undiminished, her gaze fixed on Ming He with a complex expression and deep, contemplative eyes, momentarily lost in thought.
They had only met once before.
In the ancient cave dwelling of Luoyin City on the Ninth Continent in the Eastern Region, Mu Xuan Ye had schemed to lure Ming He into the cave, intending to kill her and seize the Star Lock.
Yet, in the end, the Star Lock had recognized Ming He as its master, willingly submitting to her command.
At a critical moment, Ming He had grasped the sword’s essence, the tip of her blade gleaming coldly as she decisively moved to strike Mu Xuan Ye down.
Had it not been for Fierce Killer’s timely intervention, Mu Xuan Ye might very well have perished at Ming He’s hands that day.
Thus, Ming He had left an indelible impression on her.
If not for the need to restrain the Right Envoy upon returning to her clan, and the Demon Lord’s youthful yet troubled mind, Mu Xuan Ye would never have allowed Ming He to grow so formidable.
So formidable.
Mu Xuan Ye lingered on these words, her thoughts drifting once more.
The woman before her, clad in bloodstained white robes, bore glaring wounds, a pitiful figure sitting quietly with her head bowed, her expression unreadable.
Mu Xuan Ye had already known upon her arrival that Yóu Lìng had crippled Ming He’s swordsmanship and severed her tendons.
From this day forward, Ming He would likely never wield a sword again.
Moreover, her body now coursed only with the demonic energy of a demonic cultivator.
Where was the youthful vigor and radiant brilliance of her past?
The Star Lock… it would surely be powerless now.
After all, there is no sorrow greater than a heart that has died.
Mu Xuan Ye suddenly felt a pang of regret, a sense of loss.
She had hoped to witness the Emperor’s grace once more.
Yet, the human race remained as it always had, unchanged after all these years.
She recalled the previous Left Envoy of the demon race, Xin Ming Zhu, whose eyes had carried a hint of sarcasm—she had been her Senior Sister, though their relationship had been distant despite sharing the same sect.
Otherwise, Yóu Lìng would have surely desired to drink her blood and devour her flesh; how could they have cooperated otherwise?
Mu Xuan Ye thought of Mu Chen and Yóu Lìng, then turned her gaze to Ming He, who sat disheartened and devoid of emotion. She sighed deeply and, from somewhere, produced a large, thick cloak, draping it over Ming He.
The cloak was black; even stained with blood, it merely appeared darker, showing no trace of disarray.
In fact, as it was her own garment, it lent an air of nobility and indifference, perfectly complementing Ming He’s cold, unreadable expression.
Ming He kept her head down for a long while before finally lifting her gaze to glance lightly at Mu Xuan Ye. Her face remained impassive, her eyes dull and unyielding, yet her mind churned with a whirlwind of thoughts.
Mu Xuan Ye, the Left Envoy of the demon race, had been constrained by her low cultivation and the restrictions of the ancient cave dwelling, unable to unleash her full strength.
Thus, Ming He had been unable to discern Mu Xuan Ye’s true level of cultivation; she only knew that Mu Xuan Ye was immensely powerful, standing at the pinnacle of the Tianwu Continent.
Now, it seemed that was indeed the case.
Though her swordsmanship had been destroyed, her spiritual ocean and Sea of Souls sealed, her knowledge and perception of the world remained intact.
Even in her hazy state, her senses grew sharper.
Thus, she could discern that Mu Xuan Ye was a formidable figure in the Earth Emperor Realm.
Though not as powerful as the one from Qin Huang Mountain, she far surpassed Liu Yu and Gong Shu.
Such a powerful ally, yet she had joined forces with Yóu Lìng.
Ming He blinked, her curiosity about the young Demon Lord, who had maintained his rule for years, growing ever stronger.
If the opportunity arose, she would certainly want to visit the demon race.
She had heard of a unique flower that the demon race possessed.
Just as this thought crossed Ming He’s mind, the deep and serene voice of Mu Xuan Ye echoed from above, "In that case, I shall take her to the demon race."
Ming He: !!
So soon, they were to journey to the demon race!
She had assumed matters could be resolved here.
Indeed, Ming He was well aware of Mu Xuan Ye’s intentions.
After all, she was not entirely ignorant.
Yet, doubts still lingered in her heart.
However, those doubts could wait to be resolved later; the immediate task at hand was of utmost importance.
“Left Envoy Mu, I shall accompany you,” Yóu Lìng spoke lightly, her voice tinged with a mix of trepidation and excitement.
At this juncture, she needed to witness it firsthand, to see Ming He become a puppet of the demon race, using the Star Lock to unlock the battlefield of the heavens for them.
The prince was currently restrained on that side; as long as the alien race successfully took control of the Tianwu Continent, she could aid the prince in reclaiming the throne.
Then she could openly follow the prince and destroy the human race’s lands that Mu Chen had strived so hard to protect.
As Yóu Lìng contemplated this, the corners of her eyes gleamed red, her entire being radiating joy and excitement.
She was nearly becoming a demon herself.
She even resembled the legendary demon race more than Mu Xuan Ye did.
Mu Xuan Ye lightly acknowledged with an "oh," not refusing, but bending down slightly to place a protective barrier around Ming He, sparing her from the pain of the slicing winds.
Her right hand reached to Ming He’s waist, pulling her up into the air as they soared high into the sky.
They were heading toward the far western land of the demon race.
Yóu Lìng’s eyes flickered as she glanced at the quiet and almost invisible master of the Alien Race Hunting Hall, who had stood silently since Mu Xuan Ye’s arrival.
After a slight nod, she followed Mu Xuan Ye’s aura and left the ground, leaving the cloud courtyard empty, with only the master of the alien race, Wei Rou, and Shen Yue remaining.
“Master…” Shen Yue looked at the blood-red spot where Ming He had sat, momentarily stunned.
She approached Wei Rou but hesitated to speak, only to sense the warning in Wei Rou’s gaze, prompting her to fall silent, though her expression still bore some concern.
But Wei Rou was not worried.
She relaxed her brow, a subtle smile curling at the corners of her lips, and whispered to Shen Yue, "She knows."
She knows.
Shen Yue was stunned for a long time before her face broke into joy.
Yet, recalling the various restrictions, she quickly reined in her expression, her eyes reflecting a mix of relaxation and conflict, complexity and obscurity as she silently turned and stepped back without another word.
The demon race originally resided deep within the Northern Wilderness, but due to the emergence of Sword Demon Mountain hundreds of years ago, they could no longer survive there and had to relocate to the far western land, now known as the Demon Domain.
The Northern Wilderness, though desolate, boasted cities that were orderly and well-managed—a chaotic wilderness with a semblance of order.
The Western Region, however, was a different story.
Here lay the Demon Domain of the demon race, with sparse sects and more gangs and families; their pursuit of the Dao was weak, yet their thirst for power was fierce.
This was a land perpetually engulfed in conflict.
The royal side did not find it beyond their control, but they saw some merit in this state of affairs.
Cultivators in the Western Region were rough and abrasive, with fiery tempers and combat abilities far superior to those of cultivators at the same level; these traits were not exclusive to the talented.
They had been fighting from the moment they were born, primarily due to the struggle for power.
Yet, among the alien races in the Western Region, very few existed.
This was the gray area of the Tianwu Continent.
Ming He pondered this as she lowered her gaze, her expression still cold and unruffled while Mu Xuan Ye held her, guiding her through the air toward the Shura Hall.
Each race had its stronghold.
For the human race, it was the Imperial Palace; for the demon race, it was the Shura Hall; and for the demon race, it was also the Shura Hall.
The Shura Hall was not a single building but a vast complex of many overlapping palaces.
Where Mu Xuan Ye led her to land was not at the center of the Shura Hall, but rather near a palace on the eastern side.
The central area was likely the residence and seat of power of the Demon Lord.
Without Mu Xuan Ye leading the way, Ming He, relying on her original strength, would not even be able to enter this Demon Domain.
As she looked up at the swirling black magical mist in the air, her eyes flickered, and she noted the layout of the demon palace before her.
Unlike the human race, the demon and demon races had their territories across the entirety of the Tianwu Continent.
Naturally, they could not set up powerful barriers, nor could they prevent the demon and demon races from entering.
They could only attempt to hinder the entry of alien races, but they could not make it impenetrable.
Not because the human race was weak, but rather because of the multitude of beings among the human race, where the number of ordinary people greatly outweighed that of the cultivators.
The demon and demon races, however, were not the same.
At their core, they were also alien races, born with robust physiques.
Though their numbers were many, they did not surpass that of the human race.
Thus, they could use their means to establish constraints and barriers, safeguarding their core areas from outsiders.
As Ming He thought of this, she recalled the Soul Fox Pendant Ji Wu Xu had given her.
Roaming through the demon race implied that she was accepted and could enter the depths of the demon race, specifically the Taiyi Pavilion.
At that time, she did not understand the significance of the pendant; now, she surely knew.
“Shall we begin now?” Yóu Lìng asked softly, glancing at Ming He, who was placed on the white jade bed by Mu Xuan Ye, her eyes flickering slightly.
She then turned to inspect the surroundings, her gaze enigmatic, brewing with ferocity.
This was Mu Xuan Ye’s territory, which had once belonged to Xin Ming Zhu.
Xin Ming Zhu, the former Left Envoy of the demon race.
The fall of the Soul Clan was actually unrelated to Xin Ming Zhu, yet Mu Chen had fallen into darkness for her; how could he not care?
“Control your reckless emotions,” Mu Xuan Ye stated coldly, sensing the palpable aura of destruction lurking beneath Yóu Lìng’s gloom.
The pressure of the royal side poured down upon her unreservedly, pressing against her so hard that blood seeped from her lips, yet it deliberately bypassed Ming He.
“This place is not your Blood River Hall for lamenting the past.”
Mu Xuan Ye’s gaze was icy, indifferent to Yóu Lìng’s momentary tremble and clenched fist.
The lives and deaths of others had never mattered to her.
After all, they were all too ordinary.
But Ming He was different.
Ming He, a young cultivator at the Spirit Guiding stage who dared to raise her sword against her and nearly succeeded in killing her—she would never forget.
That was the first time in her life she had been so thoroughly humiliated.
At this thought, Mu Xuan Ye glanced at the woman sitting calmly on the white jade bed and sighed.
Calm? No, it was more like indifference.
So be it.
“Begin.”
She had never cared about the fate of the alien races, the human race, or the Tianwu Continent.
All that mattered was the power she held in her hands.
After all, her entire existence was forged for power.
Her expression dark, Mu Xuan Ye, clad in dark red robes, summoned the surging demonic energy within her with a wave of her hand.
She moved her wrist, commanding the demonic energy to encircle Ming He and lift her slowly, her face cold and unreadable.
The earlier traces of pity and hesitation were gone.
After all, the lives and deaths of others could never compare to her own strength and invincibility.
“Step aside,” Mu Xuan Ye murmured, her hands weaving a complex, profound gesture that stirred the surrounding magical mist, intensifying its swirl around Ming He. She intended to refine her into a demonic puppet.
Yes, a demonic puppet.
Ming He sat within the mist, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at Mu Xuan Ye and Yóu Lìng from her elevated position. Her gaze was bright, no longer veiled.
At this point, there was no need for pretense. Soon, they would know the truth.
They would realize she would not fall into darkness, nor would she become Mu Xuan Ye’s puppet.
Besides, the dense magical mist obscured their view—they couldn’t see her face or her eyes clearly, so there was no reason to hide.
Falling into darkness?
A radiant smile curved Ming He’s lips. They would be sorely disappointed.
She would not fall. Instead, she would rise toward the light, growing stronger with every step.
If the human race chose to follow her, she would fight alongside them. If they rejected her, she would forge ahead alone, her sword in hand.
Her Master had once asked her to reflect on why she killed the alien races.
At first, it was for her Master’s freedom, so his brilliance would not be overshadowed. Later, she believed it was for her Senior Sister, for Zhan Qing Yi, for Qu Yanran, for her fellow cultivators, for the human race, and for the Tianwu Continent.
But now, Ming He understood the truth: it was for herself.
Because she wanted to kill, she did.
It had nothing to do with the alien races, nothing to do with her Senior Sister, nothing to do with her Master, and certainly nothing to do with the human race.
She simply wanted to kill.
As for why she wanted to kill the alien races…?
Ming He smiled faintly, her silence speaking volumes.
Why must there always be a reason for one’s thoughts?
In that fleeting moment, she glimpsed the depths of her own heart.
It wasn’t about rediscovering her original intent, but rather reshaping it entirely.
At that instant, she truly understood her path—a path not confined to Swordsmanship alone, but one that embraced freedom and spontaneity.
Unshackled by the tides of fate, undisturbed by external chaos.
She could wander freely between heaven and earth, unbothered even if the alien races wreaked havoc.
Who could say when the alien races would be driven from the Tianwu Continent? Should she live in perpetual fear?
She trusted her heart.
If her heart was true, then all else was false.
With this clarity, Ming He effortlessly pierced through the dense black fog, catching sight of Mu Xuan Ye’s stern yet strikingly beautiful face, and Yóu Lìng’s eager, expectant gaze.
Yóu Lìng was anticipating Mu Xuan Ye’s success in refining her into a demonic puppet.
This way, her fractured spiritual ocean could be mended by Mu Xuan Ye’s demonic energy. With her consciousness intact, she could wield the Star Lock, and as Mu Xuan Ye’s puppet, though she retained her autonomy, she would be bound to obey Mu Xuan Ye’s commands.
Just like Yóu Lìng.
She must be the puppet of that alien prince.
Thus, she could cultivate using the alien race’s blood energy, unbound by the natural laws and boundaries of the Tianwu Continent.
Yóu Lìng’s excitement stemmed from the prospect of using the Star Lock to break the seal of the battlefield of the heavens, while Mu Xuan Ye’s pride lay in possessing such a prodigious puppet.
Much like the puppet army of the Right Envoy of the demon race in the Blood God Wilderness.
Though Mu Xuan Ye was skilled in the art of refining puppets, she paled in comparison to the Right Envoy.
The Right Envoy could forge an endless legion of puppets, while Mu Xuan Ye struggled to refine just one, beads of sweat forming on her brow and a faint trace of blood at the corners of her lips.
A hidden dragon among them, Ming He mused.
But their plans were doomed to fail.
She gazed at the swirling magical mist around her, her eyes alight with amusement, yet she made no move to resist.
Ming He could have fought back.
The power of the Sea of Souls was but a thought away. Before, she had been despondent, her spirit sealed by Yóu Lìng’s soul mastery, leaving her powerless.
But now, her mind was clear, her spirit aligned with the vast intent of the Great Path, nearly merging with it.
At this moment, she could wield not only the power of the Sea of Souls but also the forces of nature.
Yet she chose to remain still, watching coldly as the magical mist surged into her chest, her smile growing ever wider and more profound.
This was not the demonic energy of the Shura Hall, but the pure, untainted energy cultivated by Mu Xuan Ye herself, devoid of the murky violence typical of the demon race’s energy.
To refine her into a demonic puppet, Mu Xuan Ye needed to infuse her with this energy, marking her heart and mind with the demon race’s seal before reclaiming it.
Otherwise, Yóu Lìng would not have insisted on her consciousness being dimmed and her spirit crushed.
They feared Ming He’s indomitable will might disrupt their plans.
But now, this demonic energy was hers to claim.
Ming He’s lips curved into a bright smile, her brilliance no longer concealed. With a light gesture, she extended a finger, severing the magical mist that entwined her. From her elevated position, she gazed down sharply at Mu Xuan Ye and Yóu Lìng, her eyes alight with the dawn’s brilliance from the nine heavens.
She remained that young prodigy whose radiance overshadowed the World of Martial Arts.
"Pow!"
Mu Xuan Ye spat out a mouthful of blood, her eyes wide with shock; her demonic energy was now beyond her reach.
She could no longer exert pressure on Ming He’s mind.
She had slipped from her control—why?
Though her meridians still circulated with Mu Xuan Ye’s demonic energy, she could no longer sense it.
If that were the case—her demonic energy was likely irretrievable.
Already injured and her demonic energy severely depleted, she was on the brink of despair.
As these thoughts clouded her mind, a dark aura enveloped Mu Xuan Ye. She glanced at Yóu Lìng beside her, only to find her even more consumed by darkness and frenzy, a sight hard to believe.
"Your Sea of Souls…" Yóu Lìng murmured, her expression filled with shock, astonished by Ming He’s extraordinary talent.
But how could this be? She had personally ensured Mu Qian crippled Ming He’s Swordsmanship.
Sword cultivators are known for their sharpness, yet Ming He was no longer a sword cultivator. How could she still possess such a piercing gaze that seemed capable of splitting the heavens?
All her intricate schemes had crumbled into futility.
Yóu Lìng swayed slightly, nearly losing her footing; her plans had failed from the very first step.
What would come next? What could she do?
She had made a promise to the prince, filled with high hopes.
Yóu Lìng stood dazed, as if drained, merely staring at Ming He in a trance, lost in her thoughts.
"True Swordsmanship cannot be discarded," Ming He declared lightly from above.
"What is this…" Yóu Lìng gasped in horror.
With Mu Xuan Ye’s demonic energy severed, what now supported Ming He’s aerial stance was not the magical mist.
What was it? The light of the stars?
Yóu Lìng felt momentarily dazzled; the stars twinkled with brilliance, and Ming He stood atop that radiance, looking down upon them.
But this was the Shura Hall of the demon race!
How ironic to speak of brightness amidst the demon race!
Moreover, with such a grand display, the demon race could not possibly remain unaware.
Yet, no demonic cultivator had appeared. What did this signify?
It suggested that someone within the demon race did not wish for Ming He’s destruction, or perhaps did not want Mu Xuan Ye to gain another puppet.
The identity of that person was, of course, self-evident.
However, this was an internal affair of the demon race, something Yóu Lìng naturally did not concern herself with.
She simply gazed at Ming He’s exceptional presence and murmured, "It’s impossible; Mu Qian clearly crippled your Swordsmanship."
She had witnessed it herself and confirmed it with her own hands; no deception could have been at play.
"How can you destroy what you don’t understand about the sword?" Ming He sneered, her lips curling in mockery. "I told you, you don’t understand the sword."
"Mu Qian…" She paused briefly. "He might understand, but he certainly doesn’t grasp it as deeply as I do."
"Because this is my Swordsmanship."
Only she could truly comprehend her own Swordsmanship; others had no right to critique it.
"My Swordsmanship sees everything as a sword."
Shadow Strike, Blue Sea, and Longquan Sword were abandoned due to circumstances, and the bamboo sword was broken by Mu Qian. Even her tendons were severed.
She could no longer lift a sword.
But so what?
She herself was a sword!
She, Ming He, was a sword—a sword that shone brilliantly, no longer needing to conceal its edge, a sword that no one could break.
Everything could be a sword: a single leaf, a blade of grass, a drop of water.
Air, soil, mountains, rivers, flowers, and trees—everything could be.
Of course, humans could also be swords.
Everything can be a sword.
Yóu Lìng furrowed her brows as she pondered this phrase, blood trickling from the corner of her lips, yet she paid it no mind. "Since you have already forged a Clear Heart of the Sword, why do you still accompany us to the demon race?"
If Ming He wished, she could leave at any time.
Because she had already forged a Clear Heart of the Sword.
Yes, a Clear Heart of the Sword.
Even if she didn’t practice Swordsmanship, she knew the weight of those four words.
This was a special realm of Swordsmanship, something not every sword cultivator could attain.
More precisely, it was a kind of Supernatural Ability, akin to the Demon Race, but it could be comprehended later.
Sword Master had hidden in a remote corner, honing his sword for ten years. When he finally drew it, the sword shook the world. He not only possessed exceptional talent for Swordsmanship and strong determination but was also born with a Born Sword Bone.
Born with a Sword Bone, a supreme spiritual body, able to communicate with heaven and earth, mastering the forces of nature.
Without being of the royal side, he already possessed royal power, so he naturally wouldn’t be weak.
The Clear Heart of the Sword was an existence comparable to the Born Sword Bone.
Golden Brilliance.
Yóu Lìng looked at the radiant light that lifted Ming He from the dust and suspended her in mid-air; it wasn’t because of the Star Lock but due to her Heart of the Sword.
If one were to open Ming He’s heart, it would surely be golden.
It was the Clear Heart of the Sword, a golden heart born from the Star Lock, yet awakened by Ming He herself.
Human race… human race!
Yóu Lìng clenched her fist, finally unable to hold back and coughed up a mouthful of blood, her body swaying unsteadily, relying solely on the pillar behind her. She kept her eyes wide open, determined to get an answer from Ming He.
"Because I want to forge an Asura Heart," Ming He said cheerfully.
Asura Heart.
This was the emperor grade spiritual medicine recorded on the jade slip given to her by Song Guanting, said to be the medicine needed to awaken Senior Sister.
Just like the Four Seasons Flower, the note on the jade slip was very simple.
It contained just a short sentence: "Asura Qi, Clear Heart."
What could these six words mean?
Ming He never understood, and she didn’t know where to look for it. At least the Four Seasons Flower had a clue pointing to Sword Demon Mountain, but Asura Heart had nothing.
How was she supposed to find it?
She didn’t know, so she had ignored it until Mu Qian said that the energy flowing in her meridians was demonic energy, until Wei Rou appeared, and until she was brought here by Mu Xuan Ye.
Ming He finally understood and confirmed it.
Every word about the spiritual medicine on that jade slip was real; they indeed existed, but it was not prepared to awaken Senior Sister.
That jade slip was meant for her.
Asura Qi was the demonic energy of Shura Hall, and as for the Clear Heart…
She lowered her gaze to her chest, a smile curling at the corners of her lips.
There were still doubts.
But right now, those didn’t matter.
First, she needed to deal with Yóu Lìng and Mu Xuan Ye.
Time was running out.
Ming He thought this, pointing her finger like a sword. There was still a slight pain in her wrist, but it was nothing.
Because she had once again summoned her sword energy.
It was the energy of heaven and earth, but not a chaotic energy; it was the same sword energy that the Sword Master had once drawn.
The sword energy condensed into a blade, leaving Ming He’s fingertips and aimed at Mu Xuan Ye.
Before this, she was a wasted cultivator; she was of the royal side.
At this moment, her identity hadn’t changed much.
Unfortunately, Mu Xuan Ye was bound to be unable to withstand this sword energy.
She spat out another mouthful of blood, her cultivation momentarily dropping to the Wind Master realm, and then reverting to the initial stage of the Human King realm. The demonic energy within her roared and bubbled, threatening to burst forth from her body, a torment that reached her soul.
It was just like before.
Recalling the cloak that Mu Xuan Ye had draped over her, Ming He didn’t strike too hard; after all, it could still be useful.
Her heart swayed slightly, and the golden light dimmed.
Ming He realized she was about to move, quickly condensing another sword energy, directing it towards Yóu Lìng.
The next moment, the golden light surged, a ray of light soaring towards the heavens, overwhelming her in brilliance. The sound of the world roared continuously, shaking the mountains and rivers, resonating through the skies.
Ming He felt her mind grow a bit dazed, then she sensed a strong pulling force, as if the world wanted to take her away from this place, back to an old location.
She looked at Yóu Lìng, the black wolf mask showed no emotions, but she could vaguely sense the anxiety and despair beneath it.
Did the world still not want him to die?
Ming He scoffed, thinking that Mu Xuan Ye’s words were completely right.
His life and death were of no concern to her.
So, before the scene shifted, Ming He held her breath and summoned another sword energy, striking at Yóu Lìng with a speed that couldn’t be reacted to, not too hard, but still causing him to fall back, his body trembling violently.
Not only that.
This was a sword she had drawn after her initial understanding of the Clear Heart of the Sword. The sword energy entering his body wouldn’t easily dissipate; it would gnaw at Yóu Lìng’s flesh and blood day and night, pain beyond what she had felt when her tendons were severed and her paths cut off.
According to how this world treated the Clear Heart of the Sword, it was likely only that prince could remove this sword energy.
But would that prince be willing to expend energy for Yóu Lìng, a mere puppet of a different race?
Ming He thought about Yóu Lìng’s inexplicable concern for that prince, a smile tugging at her lips, uncaring of his original appearance, closing her eyes to let the consciousness of heaven and earth take her away.
Above the Imperial Palace, thunder rolled continuously, but unlike other parts of the world, it felt more like a declaration of existence and discontent.
A young man lying on the glazed tiles, chewing on dogtail grass, lazily opened his eyes and spat out a mouthful of blood, listening to the clash of thunder with a dazed expression. In the next moment, he stood up, bouncing joyfully amidst heaven and earth.
The thunderclaps grew louder.
Yet the boy paid no attention, delighting even more, "Of course, let it count!"
“Don’t worry, just let it be!” He even made a face at the sky above the Imperial Palace, hopping in place, blood still flowing from his mouth.
A woman in white walked over from a distance, blood at the corners of her lips, but she looked at the boy with a gentle smile.
She waved her hand, altering the grand formation, replacing it with another.
