The history books call me an "ogre" but say nothing about why I wield the sword.
They didn't write about the humiliation of me falling into the imperial family and being trampled to a limp by the prince's son; they didn't write about me selling poems to ask for recommendations, but they only got the sneer of "a pariah is worthy of touching Chang'an". When I ignite the poetry collection, it ignites not only the dusk of the Tang Dynasty, but also the blood, tears and anger of millions of hungry people.
I walked through the streets of heaven, based on the bones of 120,000 nobles, not for the blood-stained crown, but just to ask: Princes, generals, and prime ministers, would you rather have the seed?
If history is ultimately written by the victor, then I will use this knife to carve another kind of truth for future generations!
