Too Small

When Lin Du woke up, there was thatch on his head and patched Taoist robes on his body. An old man with a white beard poured a bowl of medicinal soup into his mouth and said that you fell from the back mountain and almost died. While sweeping the floor in the Taoist temple's backyard, I stepped on a piece of iron. A drop of blood was poured on it, and a broken knife was pulled out of the soil. There are two ancient seal characters on the blade: Qingyun. From that day on, the hanged ghosts of Liushu Village cried out on the branches, the clay statues by the river were stuffed with the bones of children, and a temple of unknown age sank under Taihu Lake. He carried this broken knife and hacked through temples one after another. Only later did he realize that each knife was repaying the debt of a person from thousands of years ago. Heaven noticed him. The judge opened the book of life and death, but his name was not on it. The true identity of the old Taoist priest, the millennium layout of the Taoism, and the sealed ancient gods, these things did not explode suddenly, but emerged from under the ice bit by bit. Lin Du thought of that late night in the back mountain and the response that came from the depths of the mountain when Zhong Dan pulsed for the first time. That response waited eighty-one lifetimes. Heaven made him the true king of Taiweidu'e. Lin Du said: The Tao is in the world, not in heaven. He returned to Qingyun Temple with the knife on his back. The wind blew the pine needles all over the ground, and no one swept them away.