Everyone in the world wants to find the Sword God and catch a glimpse of the Sword God's glorious return from the sky.
After crawling out of the grave, Zhuying looked at the desolate mass grave and fell silent.
Who is he? Where is he? How did he die?
And... Where is his sword——
When he walked out of the mass grave, he realized that fifteen years had passed. Not only was there no trace of his sword, he had no money, but his head was empty. He only remembered that he was a swordsman who should have a sword in his hand and a jug of wine at his waist. He had once again embarked on a wandering journey in search of a sword.
It's just... Why do I think the more I look at the sword god who can't be found anywhere in the world, the more I think it's me?
No! He is just an ordinary swordsman! Give him his sword quickly!
I always lament that things in the world are full of twists and turns, and all the grudges and hatreds are gone.
Let's bid farewell to the moon and go to the Western Mountains, break the plum blossoms and cut the snow to ask for the spring breeze.
Intention: Don't stick to the green mud, don't seek fame, don't be afraid of the severe winter and the cold bamboo.