The sword was long and slender, embedded deep in the ground on a slant. The body of the sword itself was still quivering from impact. Its blade was deep and foreboding, forged from what looked like black jade, smoother than a mirror—and if anyone were to approach, they could see their own reflection within it. The blackness was disrupted by a thin, silver-white line running vertically down the heart of the blade; it cut the blackness in half, like a ray of sweet love. The name of this sword was Fangxin.
