The stars and moon in the sky were bright; it was the color of a winter night, so it was extremely quiet and clear.
Fei Poyue sat alone on a stone bench in the courtyard.
He heated wine alone, and drank alone.
The martial artists from Jianghu who had been summoned earlier and those who had graduated from the martial arts school had all left one after another. Though it had been quite some time since they had studied under Fei Poyue, none dared to defy the old man, so he was the only one in the vast ancestral home.
Steam rose from the pot above the clay stove.
The old man poured himself a cup of wine; across from him were three other cups, but no one sat before them. The proof that years slowly passed was not in the changes to one's body and spirit, but more in the disappearance of familiar things.
One day, everyone will face defeat.
This, Fei Poyue understood more and more clearly.
No one can win against time.
Including himself.
