A young man in a green shirt, wielding a sword in the world. How much misery, how much admiration for the beauty. The old dreams of being free and easy are gone, and the wind is left to let the winds of the six realms blow. The sword roars in the west wind, and the bloody wind lazily looks back, leaving people passing by in the dark and desolate, waiting for the fragrant grass to set the sun. Alone in the setting sun, looking for a good match, holding hands, forgetting each other in the rivers and lakes.