New Martial Arts Memoirs

I am a swordsman who has retired from the world for many years. My name is Gu Jing. People in the world are accustomed to calling others by their names, so everyone likes to call me Sword Master. The name follows people like a shadow. As time goes by, the shadow gradually replaces the person. Later, my family all called me Sword Master, but my real name was ignored. During those days of incomparable scenery, I once lost myself and forgot who I really was? At that time, there were countless people in the martial arts community who did not know that my name was Gu Jing, and there were many who had never seen my true appearance, but there were only a few people who had not heard of the reputation of the Sword Master and the Longquan Sword in his hand. Maybe others will think this is great, because it means that you are very famous, your career has reached its peak, and you can stop working all day long and rely solely on your reputation to make a living. But this is just their outsider's opinion, but I don't think so. I think this is very bad. To me, this is simply a great sadness. No one pays attention to how much you have contributed to the martial arts. No one understands how much you long for peace sometimes. No one sympathizes with you for yourself. They only care about your victory or defeat, your ranking, and whether you are still popular and whether you are still valuable. The blame from my seniors, the competition from my juniors, the ostracism from my colleagues, the cold looks from outsiders, the flattery from white people, the provocation from **, the shroud of halo, the weight of fame, all of these made me almost crazy. I often walk by the river without getting my shoes wet. He often wanders around the rivers and lakes, how can he not be stabbed? I am a human being, not a god. I cannot be so perfect or impeccable. Why don't they understand this?