Looking Back, This Life Is Always a Sword

In an unknown inn, an old man sat quietly, his cloudy eyes staring blankly out of the window, as if he was carrying all the vicissitudes of the world. The old man's clothes were in rags, and the tattered clothes hung on his dry body and kept swaying in the breeze. Only the long sword behind his back shone slightly with blue light, seeming to announce the old man's existence. Looking around, an old tree outside the inn was swaying in the wind, and a withered yellow leaf slowly floated down and fell on a new tree beside it. The old man watched this scene quietly, then smiled faintly, stood up slowly, and walked out of the city under the last rays of the setting sun...