In the desolate temple,
corpses lie strewn, blood stains the moon.
Former subordinates fall,
their lives extinguished.
The girl, heart-wrenched,
writes in her sorrow.
At this moment,
the Shura unleashes ruthless slaughter.
Five or six assassins wait,
outside the temple for an ambush.
The girl stands alone,
killing intent rising inside.
Twin blades in her hands,
tears blur her sight.
Evil schemers stir up dust,
in the rivers and lakes.
With a graceful shadow,
who survives as she steps out?
The night wind chills,
murder fills the air.
Death-defying killers move,
the attack begins.
On the road to the underworld,
countless souls come and go.
Assassins strike together,
blades crisscross.
A sword thrusts,
guns, axes, whips—
merciless attacks.
Each strike takes a life,
no room for escape.
The blade of Shura cuts fiercely,
shadows flicker in rapid motion.
In retreat and advance,
the ground is full of corpses.
Heaven mourns.
She looks up to the stars,
the galaxy flickers in solitude.
An arrow breaks the air,
the girl deflects it with ease.
Her face is calm,
blood stains her sleeves.
A few reckless strikes,
who now enters the cycle?
Assassins strike together,
blades crisscross.
A sword thrusts,
guns, axes, whips—
merciless attacks.
Each strike takes a life,
no room for escape.
The blade of Shura cuts fiercely,
shadows flicker in rapid motion.
In retreat and advance,
the ground is full of corpses.
Heaven mourns.
In the Qiu Shui Gang,
open battles, hidden schemes.
The wise plot the perfect trap,
while schemers fuel desires.
The girl walks helplessly,
through the rivers and lakes.
To kill the bandits,
the leader must fall.
Twin-blade girl,
the wise—whose fate ends?
