I Really Don't Want to Be a Martial Artist.

The land of China, with its prosperous civil and military affairs, is like a bright pearl hanging high in the east. In the misty Jiangnan, there was a scholar who lived in a temple and was ostracized but resigned resolutely. Once he became enlightened, the brilliance of his thoughts would shine through the ages. In the rivers and lakes, there is a tyrannical warrior who wields arms to break the law. He sings all the way and defeats the warriors in the world, but he only does what he does to have a clear conscience. In the extreme south, there was an old Taoist priest carrying a wooden sword who went into the mountains to hide from the world and sat there for a hundred years, eating the wind and drinking dew to guard the southern border. Outside of China, there is a barbaric land in the south of southern Xinjiang, where miasma is pervasive and demons are rampant. Countless monsters are watching with covetous eyes, and their scarlet-blooded eyes are fixed on China. There was a young man who started out at a young age. After listening to the loud reading in a private school, seeing the martial arts warriors who did harm to the people, and the lazy Taoist priests who walked the path of heaven and subjugated demons, the seeds of martial arts sprouted in his heart and he started to step forward. Many years later, when faced with the encirclement and suppression by all kinds of big demons, he looked calm and punched out, like the sun was shining in the sky.