The rivers and waves of the Magus world are illusions of life, the moon shines on the sword with aspirations steadfast. A lone lamp in hand through the rainy night, drunken steps on the stars as the sun rises.
The next morning, the calm was shattered, and the storm finally arrived.
Every bamboo leaf seemed to carry a deadly aura, fiercely dancing in the strong wind, with a few dried, yellow leaves falling, bringing with them a sense of lifeless desolation.
The once serene Dark Green Pavilion, where Krul had resided, had now welcomed a group of uninvited guests. There were four of them: one ranked on the Gold List, and the other three were skilled Outer Gate disciples.
One man wielded a short blade, strapped at his waist.
Another carried a strange weapon, a crocodile-jaw scissor with bright, sharp edges that spoke of its brutality.
