Off the desert island.

Well, it's an elusive name indeed.

In fact, its meaning is very simple, everything comes from the great war that plagued the entire Tuyun Continent thirty years ago, the six countries all dispatched their strongest armies, and the final result was: only one hundred and fifty civilians on this continent went to the sea in their own small broken boats on the river with missing arms and legs, and then floated to this isolated island.

To celebrate the escape from death, it was called the 'desert island'.

The meaning is to leave the deserted island.

Three hundred years have passed in a flash.

At that time, there were less than a thousand people on the island, but there was a high-speed railsmith with a beard, a small twist candy shop that produced and sold itself, and a tall aunt with a slitted eye when she smiled. There was no gold, silver, jewelry, or gold for the exchange of goods, and the most primitive form of money - hands.

I'm sorry, but I may not be too clear, I'm not saying that if you want to change something, you have to cut off your hands, I'm saying that everything has to be exchanged for labor.

My favorite thing is to lie on the lawn and listen to the old old man tell the story, his white beard is half a foot long, and when he speaks, he always eats and talks, just like my rotten book, the cover is a little yellow, and it exudes the smell of history, and it smells like a puppet man in a bizarre story.

The story he told was always the same story, and I often heard it and eventually memorized it, and I squatted barefoot on the only grass on the island, watching the old-timers coax the children to tell the story.

In a grass house near the island, there lived a young man in Tsing Yi, whose name was unknown, whose origin no one knew, and who had not spoken to anyone, as if the inhabitants of the island and he were people of two worlds.

On the fourth day of the first month of October, the young man in Tsing Yi would carry a basket on his back and row out to sea, and when he came back, it was already the summer of the second year, and there would be more than a dozen extremely sharp swords in the basket, and each sword would have blood stains on it.

There was once an adventurous young man who came back from a voyage and said that he had seen a strange thing:

One day he hid in the woods, and saw the two armies facing each other, and one of the generals led by one of them held a fine sword in his hand, and at this moment, a young man in green clothes with a basket on his back walked up to the general, and in full view of everyone, he actually pulled out the sword from the general's waist and put it in his basket. Then, disappear in an instant. And during this period, no one stopped him, and no one seemed to notice the existence of the young man in Tsing Yi. When he came to his senses, he found that the general's sword was well inserted in the scabbard at his waist and did not move at all.

As a result, the two armies fought, and the invincible general, who had his sword drawn, died on the battlefield.

Since then, there have been rumors that the young man in green clothes is the god of death on the desert island, and as long as the generals who have touched the sword by him will all die on the battlefield without exception.

Suddenly, a strange thought popped into my mind.

Is this story true?

On this day, as the sun set, I sneaked to the forbidden place on that island.

I saw the young man in Tsing Yi standing in front of a pavilion not far away, and he looked like he had come out of a painting, just like in the story. The complexion was pale and looked very clean in the light of the setting sun, but the eyes were as black as night, and the black hair was raised with the gusts of sea breeze.

I looked at the blond thing he had in his hair and was weird, and I yelled, "Hey, what's that thing on your head?"

He walked over gently, took the golden thing off his head, and asked, "If it's for you?"

It's a beautiful thing, and there's some weird writing engraved on it, and I don't know what to say, but I think it's okay to ask for it, and I thought to myself that I was going to be friends with him, so I didn't want to put it on my head.

"I'll put it on for you. He laughed, gently fiddling with my hair, and I could see myself in his eyes, and sure enough, wearing it and not wearing it were two different things.

"But what about you?" I noticed that his hair was now as loose as I had before, and I thought to myself: What should he do if I have his things with me?

He smiled, he didn't need it anymore, and after saying that, he turned into a gust of wind and dissipated, leaving only a green shirt.

Suddenly, I felt my eyelids were heavy, and I thought it was a dream, and I would be fine with a good night's sleep.

When I woke up, I found myself wearing the green shirt.

In a trance, I slowly walked into the pavilion where I first met him, it turned out that the words of the old-timers were all lies, where there is a thatched hut, only a pavilion.

There is only one stone bench in this pavilion, a stone table, a teapot and a teacup on the stone table, and a bamboo basket and a book on the stone bench.

The book was so new, it seemed that no one had ever opened it, I had not learned to read, but I knew what was written in it.

I opened the brand new book, and it read as follows:

The sword picker, carrying a basket of green clothes on his shoulder, when the slaughterer in the world dies, the soul killed in his weapon will break through the seal and bring disaster to the world. Your duty is to drain the soul of the weapon before the slaughterer dies, sprinkle it with his own blood to temporarily seal, bring the weapon to his refining place for refining, and then lead the soul to the underworld.

I flipped through it very quickly, and finally on the last page of the book, there was a line of words. The words are very new, exuding the smell of ink, sorry, I lied to you, but I really can't stand this long period of loneliness, hold on, there will be the next inheritor, just like you.

I shook my head, scoffed, and tossed the book aside. And with the basket on his back, isn't it just to draw a weapon soul, what's the big deal?

Then I pinched my fingers and calculated, on the fourth day of October, the time was up, and it was time for me to go to sea.

Note: This story comes from the Donghe Kingdom God Shi Taijuan "The Legend of Light Leisure"