Mo Chen liked black, so his blade was black; black symbolized solitude, pride, and nobility—the life of a swordsman.
Like all swordsmen, the moment Mo Chen started to practice the sword, he resolved to hold the blade in his hand and pierce a hole in the sky to become the best swordsman in the world.
In the process, he killed many people, so many that he lost count.
Mo Chen had thought that if he went to the Underworld, many would seek his life.
But he was not afraid of death; he even longed for it.
Because death was black too.
Night falls on the human world, and the rivers and mountains are autumnal.
As darkness fell, the last lingering light of the sun would sprinkle over the earth, peaceful, composed, and elegant.
It was similar to the feeling when a person was about to die.
But after sunset, the night sky was still lit up by countless stars.
