In the hall, flowers bloom, while three thousand guests revel, Fourteen states shiver in frost, subdued by one sword's spell. Injustice marked, a blade three feet, carried on my back, Forged in ancient gloom, cold steel with a centuries-old track. Sun and moonlight absorbed, it glows with a radiant sheen, Purple energy repelling, a sword of divine mien. I vow to draw this sword and bring Loulan to its knees, To lift it from my waist, to cut through tyranny's decrees. With chopsticks flung, I cannot eat, I draw my blade instead, I gaze around in desolation, lost in thoughts unsaid. Northwest clouds I raise my head, a long sword is my guide, Thousands of miles I venture forth, with heaven by my side. The moonlight glows upon my chest, ice, and snow within, Rivers mighty in their flow, the journey will begin. The whale has yet to swallow seas, but sword energy flies, Across the autumn skies it cuts, a herald of sunrise. If Zen's barrier is broken, beauty shines anew, A jade sword or a rainbow, to righteous hearts, stay true. For the edge of a blade is sharpened by the trials it braves, And the fragrance of plum blossoms is born in bitter waves.