Swords dance on the Yanjiang River, and swords fly on the moonlit night.
Seeing the fame of Mingjian Mountain, recalling the glorious past of the Ancient Sword Gang.
The divine moon rises and kills countless martial arts heroes in vain.
Thousands of flowers are buried in the ground, and hundreds of flowers are crying in red.
Red medicine beside the bridge, for whom do you hope to be born every year?
The lonely smoke in the desert, the setting sun on the long river, and the rain of swords and swords will eventually forgive each other.
The hero and his wife travel together, slaying traitors and eliminating harm, and the story is passed down to future generations on a moonlit night over the Yanjiang River.
The desire for power makes a comeback, but the world is finally settled.
After he quietly retired to seclusion at the age of 18, he was filled with wine and his music was dyed with ink.
Who knows where my lonely smoke helps me menstruate? Who cares about his flying swords and dancing and fame!
(I dedicate this document to the most important person in my life.)