Chinhooi Zhenhui

 The chronicle said the sign of the rise of a phoenix is dark dark is the extinguishing of lamp after lamp the withering of ivy the hardening of ice dark is the misty bewildering length of the night dark is demons dancing and taunting wildly dark is the seed of despair beneath the tundra the sleeping soil in the dead of winter the elements came and told the phoenix rising is gold like purified skies like gleaming lighthouse like gorgeous nutriment of summer like outflow of sunrise like spring in the thick of north then it's understood the rise of a phoenix is the revival of all things reawakening of the soul poem of consciousness the cleansing crest of love.

 Precious sword of cyan bronze the power of which unmatched as poems of mythology always tend they never tell you the final answer like the five greats he suffered from east to west he ran and searched through battles and ambushes they keep coming up but the eventual green spirit and heart disappeared like the dearly departed a return to mundane ashes and dust only despair surges to the surface the answer is actually simple it is in the midst of his throes first, the swordplay of Jade Maiden second, the toad skill and serpent staff  third, the dog beating staff technique fourth, the time flicking skill fifth, the melancholic palm  one of the five is a riddle waiting to be solved as is the world  waiting to be saved evil waiting to be destroyed the countdown to the choice  is on the godly condor splits the peak the earth turns to peace the secluded rainbow of romance will streak  across the clarity of the victory.