A Humble Martial Sage

Thousands of villages in Jizhou are covered in snow, and thin figures knock on the door to beg for rice. Frozen lips withered and hungry for three days, a wisp of chaff warms the cold muscles The ruined temple prays to the Buddha with a broken lamp, and the frost-covered brows and eyelashes worship the dust and mud. The wooden carving of the Buddha's palm hides a clever contract, and the secret door opens with a warm breeze. The skeletons in the secret room convey old grudges, and the remaining notes from ancient books tell the story of the secluded period. A roll of pure sunshine frightens the cold night, waiting for spring to come and walking on different paths