The cassia petals fly, the moonlight pierces the night, coldly soaking the late summer evening mountains.
On the fifth night after climbing Remorse Cliff, Zhao Rong opened the window to enjoy the cool air, inviting the moonlight into the room.
Around the hour of Xu, someone knocked on the door.
He unlatched the door and ushered Linghu Chong inside, who upon entering, noticed the ink marks on the paper on his desk.
"What are you writing, Brother Rong?"
Zhao Rong replied, "Just some musings on martial arts practice."
Linghu Chong uttered a sound of understanding, "Does it have to do with Hengshan Swordsmanship?"
Seeing Zhao Rong nod, he immediately suppressed his curiosity, no longer glancing at the writings, admiration shining in his eyes.
"Brother Rong's Illusionary Sword has reached a divine level. If the future disciples of Hengshan can learn your swordsmanship, they will surely become unparalleled masters."