I am a madman named Amo. A native of Gangneung, he has neither father nor mother. There once was a bald brother who was as tough as a rhinoceros and so narcissistic that daffodils could not match him. He adopted me for ten years and asked me to call him master. Then he kicked me out of the house because I pulled out a plant in his flower pot.
I shamelessly refused to leave, and the master became furious, kicked me out of the door with a volley, and said, "Give me a chance to see the world!"
What's my last name, you ask?
Why not ask the stray cat and dog what their last name is? We are all cats and dogs in the rivers and lakes, why should we care about a mere surname?
You asked me what Jianghu is?
Then please find a busy shop, go in and shout, "Sumucheng/Li Ye Longyang's 18-style erotic pictures are on sale at a special price!" A group of knights in green shirts will definitely pick a cold front on you, with a sense of justice like a crab running thousands of miles away, and you are the scum who dares to promote the most evil BL in public places.
Gathering a crowd to fight is the essence of Jianghu. The master likes nothing more than to leisurely eliminate harm for the people while mumbling in my ear. He happily fertilized his nursery and used the collected "folks" by the way.
Although I hate my master, I completely agree with this statement. This will stay with me as a concept that I pursue throughout my life, and it also determines my future - be the first to drink when gathering, stand back from fights, and go to the Shaolin Temple to return home as a couple if there is nothing wrong.
Life is enough.
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Martial Arts Xiaoyan, I am a novice, who should I be afraid of?
This is a side story of "The Wild Goose Broken by the West Wind", written for fun.
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Sorry, the year is wrong.
It's time to change it again. OTL...