I was lying on the mound dying, and my chest was in severe pain every time I took a breath. A long gash was cut on my right arm by the edge of the sword, which was dripping with blood. The mud and blood mixed with water stuck to the wound, which was particularly hideous. I thought my lower back must be broken, because even a slight movement like turning my arms would involve the lumbar spine, which would make my eyes black with pain, so that the fine pain of the sand and stone grinding wound could not be felt. The consciousness is gradually blurring, but the heart is extremely calm. The unwillingness and anger that were originally so thick that could not be resolved became faint and lingering with the flow of blood and consciousness, and finally disappeared. Finally, I could no longer maintain my human form, and there was a strong smell of blood in my mouth and nose. At the last moment when I lost consciousness, I let out a sigh in my heart. Maybe this is my life. It turns out that when I am about to die, my deep-rooted hatred, resentment, and anger will dissipate like floating dust, and there is no need for the bowl of Meng Po soup by the Naihe Bridge in the Flower Garden on the other side.