Ding Xiao often sharpened his sword late at night. No one knew that this man, so skilled in calculation, could…
Ding Xiao often sharpened his sword late at night.
No one knew that this man, so skilled in calculation, could only let his emotions flow at this moment.
Every time he sharpened his blade, he thought of his childhood. The crushing defeat at the frontier, his father and brothers branded as incompetent in death, and his own imprisonment. He thought then that he was no longer the young noble with a pen; when he was free, he should have a sword, a sword that could slice through injustice, pierce through grievances, and be more valiant and stern than his father's weak knives.
But all these years, as he hated and sharpened, the sword grew brighter, but his heart grew more lost, unable to see the path ahead...
Where exactly should this sword be pointed?
Until the clouds began to stir at Zhongdu Bridge, and he learned a distant truth.
Perhaps it was time for it to be unsheathed, pointed at past events that must be settled.