He pointed a single finger upward, and a sharp sound of slicing air rang out in the blizzard behind him. The figure in the black robe's pupils shrank abruptly, but a section of cold, gleaming blade had already pierced through the back of his neck, the sword tip, dripping with blood, stopping at 'Pei Ye's' throat.
Pei Ye quietly watched this scene unfold.
The black robe slipped from his front, and he staggered, using his sword to support himself, until he stood before his friend with whom he'd just engaged in a life-or-death struggle.
The sword extracted from his chest, the man collapsed powerlessly to the ground, at the brink of death.
Pei Ye watched as he silently crossed the blade over, the chaos in his mind slowly settling down at that moment. He felt his body grow cold, as if becoming one with the corpse in the snowstorm.
Suddenly, he understood countless things.
