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The flowers are falling all over the sword.
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Categories: immortal chivalry
Statuses: Updating
I raised those withered stumps and withered iron orchid flowers, one by one fell on my shoulders, with the desert wind and sand drifting down on my funeral moon sword, the sword stained with the blood of my mother and purple orchid. Behind me, the Singing Moon Sword seems to be crying in a small voice, as if I have seen my father waving the Burial Moon above the desert, still so clear, under my father's old face, I am so an...