When the seven swords became one, the intense sword breath seemed to fill his body with a mysterious force.
It was as if something was beginning to stir within his heart, something like desire was breaking out of its cocoon within his body.
What was it?
He rummaged through his memories, which were like multicolored murals. They flashed past quickly and switched around like those lanterns with a carousel of paper horses.
With the passing of time, these murals started to peel off, losing their colors and luster. The lines were damaged and torn. They were beyond recognition yet unchangeably familiar, like calls from a faraway valley.
Some time passed and only two images were left within his mind.
In mid air, with his last breath, Teacher was saying, "Kill me."
He could still remember that calmness, free from grief. He was like an unrelated observer who’d made his decision and hadn’t regretted it.
He still did not regret it.
