When the mountains and rivers are shattered and the iron hooves crush the remaining warmth of the prosperous age, where should the knight's sword point?
"The Last Knight" is not a fairy tale. It is a doomsday tragedy, sung to a soul destined to be lonely - Li Moyan. The lonely smoke in the desert was the bloody fate that had been soaked in him since he was a baby. The sword light in Qingni Ridge cut off his first umbilical cord with the world; Yunjilu in Emei was his cold cradle.
There are no myths here. The light of the sword and the shadow of the sword will eventually be eclipsed by the overthrow of the country. What I am looking for is the critical burden of the word "xia" in the torrent of the apocalypse - the responsibility that you know you cannot do, the stubbornness to guard the fireflies in the rain of blood, and the backbone that refuses to be broken in front of the huge waves.
Li Moyan's life is a footnote for passers-by. Teachers, friends, loved ones, robes... All the warmth and companionship were eventually swallowed up by the stormy waves of the troubled times. Every encounter is a prelude to a more painful separation. He always walked alone among the ruins, his figure elongated by the setting sun, with the ruins of his motherland beneath his feet, and the eternal silence in his heart.
Home and country are not empty slogans. They are the memory of the homeland that is integrated into the blood and bones. It is the perseverance in traveling south in clothes. It is the silent witness of a lonely figure behind the cliff mountain when the sea and the sky share the same sorrow. Chivalry in the apocalypse is an immortal solitary lamp lit with a mortal body in the darkness.
Open this volume and step into the bloody dusk. See how Li Moyan, the last lonely hero, used loneliness as a blade to carve the last inscription of his chivalry on the cliff of history.
The lonely lamp shines, and the chivalrous bones serve as monuments. Living is his world, and it is also the world in my mind.
