Surely in a world so vast there lie yet stones unturned— slippery things smalled for his spindling fingers to unearth.

Spring comes, and Nie Huaisang is seen with his sabre for the first time since— anyone's guess as to when.

A sabre is, by nature, forthright.

Talking at someone is only fun for so long. That's all being a sect leader is: talking and talking to people bound by courtesy to listen to you. It's so fucking dull. A relief, then, to face one’s equal, and no less an old friend who is inclined to interrupt you whenever you ramble. He likes it. It’s one of Jiang Cheng’s best qualities.

In the years after Guanyin Temple, Nie Huaisang attends to unfinished business.

There is no-one here to watch Nie Mingjue, save for their ancestors, save for him.