Great Saint of the Gods

There is a civilization called China. When I climb the ancient city wall, when I caress the decayed pillars and beams, when I lean on the railing and look into the distance with excitement, there will always be a trace of sourness rushing into my throat, and I will always hear a voice saying loudly: Remember? Your ancestor's name is Yan Ce. The book says that there is a big fish that lives in Beiling. It turns into a giant bird and flies between the sky and the earth. Wu You has wings like clouds hanging from the sky. Even though it is ninety thousand miles away, it can soar straight up. The sages have given us a breastplate that can encompass the sky and created a vast and magnificent temple for us. At that time, there was a strange young man named Ji Kang. Before he was executed, he played a beautiful song, and his broad robe and belt were flying in the wind. He faced death with the most graceful attitude. Thousands of years have passed, but there are still lingering sounds, but he doesn't know that what is really cut off is not the music score, but his pride and even the clothes on his body. I also dreamed of going back to the Tang Dynasty and traveling around with a poet named Li Bai. What he used to drink wine was the cold light on the edge of a sword, and his lover was the moon in the sky. I once saw him wandering under the moon, singing loudly, with his hairband blown open by the strong wind, and his robes flowing like an immortal. But then the emperor changed. He supported the literati with a glass of wine and abandoned the generals. His descendants eventually hid in paradise on earth and gave up large tracts of land. However, in the cold north, an army was fighting on the battlefield. The enemies said that we could not win the battle as long as the Yue family's army was present. It is a pity that heroes are tabooed and dissidents are arrogant. A ray of loyal soul finally dissipated beside the West Lake. The spirit of a nation has died irreversibly. However, in the bloody sunset, I vaguely saw someone inserting it into the soil. It was a baby gun that the general had used. The wheel of time wandered slowly and finally lost its direction in Jiashen. So on the bank of Slender West Lake, on Meihua Ridge, an ancestral hall was built to commemorate this tragedy. The frail scholar named Shi Kefa was unwilling to let go of Gao Dong's warning, let alone take off the clothes left to him by his ancestors, so he decided to live and die with the city, losing his life and protecting his faith. Cruel killings, like mountains of corpses, cannot bury the spirit of the nation. Some people believe that one day, it will still shine brightly on the land of China. Hundreds of years later, I sat in the lobby of McDonald's, I wore Gucci fashion, and I sang "My Heart Will Go On" casually, but I felt inexplicably sad because I heard a voice saying loudly: Have you forgotten? Your prime minister's name is Yanhuang. I remember, a group of whistle-blowers, armed with strong ships and cannons, demolished our temples and destroyed our palaces. So today, after countless disasters, we understand democracy and freedom, but forget about ethics. We have musical prodigies, but we don't know how to be humble businessmen. We can build high-rise buildings, but there is no room for a public arch. We wear suits and leather shoes, but have no clothes of our own. Where is that land of etiquette? Where is my son of the Han family? Why do you say that I behave abnormally when I wear the most beautiful clothes? Why do you say that the Han suit that I cherish so much belongs to Fusang? Why do you always treat my sincere confession as a joke? Why can't the tears I shed move your iron heart at all? Where is the land of faith? Where is my son of the Han family? I don't want to break my heart over this, I don't want my ancestors' wisdom to be appreciated by no one, let alone my Chinese clothes and clothes left in a foreign country. Therefore, there is always a desire in my heart, a dream that one day we can pick up our own culture and support the backbone of the nation. Remember, remember, there was an era called the Han and Tang Dynasties, a river called the Yangtze River, a pair of totems called dragon and phoenix, and a feathered coat called Nizhuang!

Novel opinion building, if you don't accept it, come to fight. Can be sprayed.

Hold a cow hair and say you have a cow. That's called bragging; There is a cow showing a cow, That's called calmness; There are nine cows. Pull each one out and run around. That's called showing off; There are nine cows with only one hair showing, That's called low-key; There are cattle farms but they pretend not to know the hair of cattle, That's called Chengfu! Bragging makes people sympathize, Frankness makes people approachable, showing off makes people disgusted. The low profile makes people convinced, and the city gives people distance! I want to be a low-key person, Therefore, I will never tell you that my family has a mine! ! !

Dear author, I would like to ask if the male protagonist has no fighting ability? He is just a saint with no power to restrain a chicken. I feel that one's own strength is truly strong

It's not that I want to complain, it's just that it's really uncomfortable to read. I rarely see such uncomfortable novels. Maybe the author's writing method is different? I read it for a while, but I didn't understand a lot of things and couldn't explain many things clearly. I can't tell you exactly, but I felt uncomfortable watching it for a while. The writing and plot are both like this.

Why don't you respect the heaven and earth and the great way of heaven?

. . . . . Are you writing about a saint who has no strength? ? ? ? At the very least, you must have the ability to turn tables over. . . . Is the word saint a joke? ? ?

My level is too low and I don't understand. Are you trying to make things difficult for me? →_→

Author, are you writing classical Chinese, or are you testing my Chinese language skills?

Rubbish. . . . . . . .