What kind of style is this, they do not know how to explain, it is called "chivalry" well, hall seven-foot male, blood and vigor, the mighty can not be bent, the rich can not be obscene, the poor can not be shifted, the heart of the young is always a little crazy, full of blood surging and surging. And finally one day he got the hero post, headlong into that fascinating eye of the rolling red dust.
Where there are people, there are rivers and lakes; where there are rivers and lakes, there are all kinds of gods from all over the world. A square dancer once told me that if she jumped fast enough, her loneliness would not be able to catch up with her; a scavenger uncle once told me that if he turned over the garbage carefully enough, he would be able to retrieve the lost himself; a sanitation aunt once told me that she sweeps these two streets every day, seven years, have not swept away the dust of the heart; a bumper car once told me that as long as he acted realistically enough, he could The first thing you need to do is to get your hands dirty.
The first time I came to the sword, I realized that I was just a small particle in the red dust, and I was called to come and go. Small hidden in the city, hidden in the forest, he looked at the hands of the sword, some at a loss, he knows, this is a great weapon, the blade is sharp, the sword body crystal, kill people not stained with blood, holding the sword can cut off ten miles of spring wind, the moment is the maple red all the way to the front of the world, the world is unparalleled!
But at the moment, he was at a loss for words. He understands that as a swordsman, he cannot stop, no matter whether it is active or forced, progress or retreat, he always has to go. Then, a person's life is countless times blinking and looking back, who do not know the right road where, so all the way to fight and kill, all the way to the four seas for home .....
By the way, the boy's jianghu, in addition to the sword, and wine. Before all the way sword, crawling, hustle and bustle of the world's prosperity, in the dead of night, will take down the wine bottle pinned to the waist, gently call full of marigolds, all the memories of all the stories are dissolved into this bright liquid in front of you. Wake up again and again drunk, drunk again and again wake up has long been a matter of habit, everyone says that the swordsman is not able to be pretentious, but I know, drunk can be.
There is a good sword, there is wine, there is Jianghu, and perhaps a beloved girl. The wind and fire, dashing, across the year and a year, the heart of the frivolous, accompanied by the grinding of time a little bit of dissipation, perhaps also because of a certain love affair to become gentle. In short, he slowly became more and more like a real chivalrous, in times of danger, the mountain collapsed in front of the color without changing, help the building will fall, to save the fallen waves. The boy understands that he is a sword, the jianghu is another forge, he was burned, was quenched, was pounded, only to wait for the open front, waiting for the sword.
A flick of the finger, a few times in the spring and autumn, the former warrior has aged, looking at the courtyard, practicing diligently, longing for the dream of the disciples, low eyebrows and nodding, smiling and not saying anything.
At this moment, the old boy has long been enlightened, there is a sword only we know, and with the wind forward, behind a Xu meteor.
--- North and South Road dial Canglang, West out of Yangguan teenage madness ----