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"Chuan Wu is a big joke!" "Look at the masters you call them. Which one is not a charlatan who can be knocked down with one punch?" "Stop bragging about your profound martial arts skills! If you are really capable, go to the ring and become a world champion!" Duan looked at the audience who kept scolding and laughing at traditional martial arts, and he showed his signature smile. "Just get... Get a world championship, right?" This is the path of a boxing champion born with a movement disorder, and it is also the path of a man in the world.

What to do? Half of the pieces on the chessboard were missing, and the old chess player was already terminally ill. He raised his head and looked at the fallen leaves of autumn, carrying the smell of decay, covering the broken computer screen in the garbage dump one by one. He picked up the fallen leaves with some melancholy, placed them on the chessboard, and gathered the chess pieces that he could not find for a long time. His laughter was very much like the fallen leaves on the chessboard and the weeds blowing in the wind on the ground.