During the Jingtai era, undercurrents surged. The vassal princes plotted rebellion, the imperial house was tyrannical, and even the commoners who slaughtered their way through the markets harbored rebellious ambitions.
What did it matter to become a great general or a high minister, or to win undying fame? In the eyes of the imperial house, you were nothing but a mortal, a servant in fine clothes, a commoner in a tall hat.
If so, what use was there in reading the sages' books on governing the world?
I gave my heart to the bright moon, but the moonlight fell into a ditch.
In this world, there will always be a small number of people who seek to distinguish themselves from and oppress ordinary folk by bloodline. They always delude themselves into thinking that their mighty power can suppress their empire for all eternity. But they have forgotten the most powerful weapon of the common people: fire.
Those who raise torches in the darkness will be followed, even unto death.
At dawn, drink from the Yellow River; ride hard into the capital,
cut down the emperor himself, and laugh at the mortal world as the seas roll on.
I have seen the snow on towering peaks, drunk deep from the waters of the River of Oblivion, and learned martial arts that turn decay into wonder. Cross the western mountains, and countless lands and demons still lie ahead. Pass through the southern forests to see the wondrous Yunmeng Marsh. Cross the eastern sea, where the sun rises.
Dark clouds over deep green mountains, hoping to watch the sunset slip beyond the peaks. Drunk at the heart of the lake, waiting for dusk to cast its light upon the boat.
