In July of the tenth year of Shaoxing, Yancheng.
That night, he woke up from a thousand years later, holding a knife that was still warm.
The blade of the knife points north, eight hundred miles from the homeland.
In front of him is the thunderous sound of Iron Buddha's hooves, and behind him is the dust of the stagecoach with twelve gold medals.
Someone asked him: Did you know that if you leave here, you will be in trouble?
He said: General, this country has been silent for too long.
——And now, it's time for someone to speak.
This repetition rate. . . AI's?
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