Purple Air Travels Westward

The five thousand words of the Tao Te Ching were written in one night at Hangu Pass. History books say: I rode a green ox out of the pass, but I didn't know where it would end. I didn't go into seclusion. He is a Taiqing saint - he has stayed in the archives of the Zhou royal family for thirty years, looking through the fragments of the gods, battle reports, and sacrificial files, and discovered a fact that no one has seen: there are cracks in the foundation of the way of heaven. Conferring God is not "completed" - it is "shelved". The cause and effect ignored by the gods, the bloodline rejected by Zhou Li, the "Sacrifice of the West" that was quietly deleted - they have been silent for hundreds of years. But silence does not mean disappearance. All possible roads have been traveled. As a memorial to the emperor, the bamboo slips were thrown into the furnace and burned. Asking for help from fellow disciples - Yuanshi couldn't believe it, and it was inconvenient for him to express his position. Zhuntidu paused for a breath, and Tongtian knocked twice on the restricted wall. The meeting adjourned. Outside the gate of Zixiao Palace, an old man stood under the night sky. No one will move. It's not that I don't want to – it's just that the rules don't allow it. It's the rules they set themselves, which in turn locks them in. He took out the old green bull from the storage room. Put several rolls of bamboo slips on the back of the cow. Go out of the city gate. The soldier yawned: "Old sir, are you leaving the city?" "Yes." "Where to?" "To the west." He walked ten thousand miles west. Pass through quicksand, snow-capped mountains, and Tianzhu. Calculate the boundaries of cracks. Calculate the critical point of calamity - there are still seventeen generations left, about five hundred years. He planted a tree in Tianzhu and carved a chessboard on the stone wall of the snow-capped mountains. Then continue west and disappear on the horizon of history.