Realm of Mist

On the Kyushu Continent, one day, poisonous fog suddenly fell from the sky. Like the veil of death, wherever it goes, there is chaos. Anyone invaded by the poisonous mist is like a crazy beast, crazy and desperate. On the earth, flowers, plants and trees quickly withered and withered. Humans, birds and beasts suffered countless casualties under the raging poisonous mist. There was a young man who had not seen his parents since he was a child. Surprisingly, he was able to walk freely in the diffuse poisonous mist, as if the poisonous mist had no effect on him. His figure loomed in the poisonous fog, like a strange dawn, which seemed particularly mysterious in this apocalyptic scene. He said: Recite my name and I will protect myself. He said: My heart is the heart of heaven, and my heart is the heart of Tao. He said: When a monk cultivates his body, his mind will be strong. He said: Utensils are not about their shape, but their essence lies in their use. Shapes, what you can see with the eyes, are just representations. What the user feels in his heart becomes the foundation. [Not brainless, more humorous, not a holy mother, not a harem, not systematic...]