Leon Luo swung his sword down. The blade of the long sword in his hand was sharp and cold, but it was coated with a layer of dazzling starlight.
That bright light is the fireworks reflected in the children's eyes on New Year's Eve, the fire in the kitchen shining on the mother's face, the candle head in the lantern at midnight, and the thin flame of tobacco in the pipe of the old man sitting at the entrance of the village.
It is the warmest and most ordinary fireworks in the world.
In just a moment of contact, it ignited the ends of Ba Xia's hair fluttering in the wind.
The killing intent wrapped in softness is like the inviolable principle under the casual and easy-going. The temperament and spirit of this knife are very similar to Leon Luo.
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