Under the vast sky, Sword Immortals chase the wind.
Peasants working the land noticed a streak of white light flying across the sky from the west, like a meteor in broad daylight.
Many thought it was a celestial descending to earth, and they immediately knelt down and began to make silent wishes.
Some prayed for a bountiful harvest this year, hoping that the landlord wouldn't find out so that their families could be well fed.
Others wished for their daughters to find a loyal and honest man to marry, not minding if he was poor as long as he was kind.
Still others hoped for their wives to give birth smoothly and for both mother and child to be safe—even if it turned out to be a mother and daughter, that would be fine too.
However, just as everyone had finished making their simple wishes, they faintly heard a response from the white light now far away in the sky.
"Zhao Siyang, you little trash, can't you play fair? You sneak-attacking scoundrel!"
