The soft-skinned man has broken our slumber of a thousand reincarnations. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

For a long time, I've been experiencing the world's brilliant sports. Although I couldn't see them, I knew that the stars were bursting above me and then perishing. I can still feel the warmth of the sun bringing life to the yellow sand.

Then my heart slowed and I curled up in the dry sand to warm my body and prepare for a long sleep. I thought my time underground would be lonely, and the earth wouldn't respond to my touch. But everything around me is of the same race. I could feel the rustle of them in their slumber. I listened to their silent whispers come into my mind, and I heard their dream songs describe more than that. A world without soft skins, without fear, pain, doubt. A world in great peace.

In the sand, we are all of the same mind; We go into dreams as a community. There are not only singers, but all life; Worms wrapped in rounded valleys of sand, moles digging tunnels waiting to give birth, and even a nest of soft-haired spiders that spend the night in the dark depths.

I thought the rocks were stiff, cold, and indifferent. But they're also part of who we are. The stones are warm, and the deeper we dig, the closer we get to the primordial fire of this world. Every time the fury boils underground, I sing. Its tremors shook the sand until I responded with my own fury. We are one. We don't distinguish between each other. Your anger is equal to mine. I heard it thanks during the rainy season, when the moist droplets soaked the sand and the land became fertile and abundant.

Then the soft-skinned man came, and brought only pain to the earth. Our singing turned into a cry, and we were torn, destroyed, and scattered. The soft-skinned men dug out my kindred, and I heard the song of sorrow. They pulled the stone crystals out of our bodies and stole them, and we could only scream in pain, louder than an earthquake. For countless nights I sang and sang until my heart became hollow and cold, but they did not come back.

Today, I came to the Upper Realm alone. Today, the dry wind burns my outer skin. With every step I took, the sand grinded in protest. I resisted the urge to bury myself deeply, to go into the depths of darkness. I didn't leave, I was still part of the community, not outside the community.

In the distance, I hear songs of pain and fear. The tone was weak, but I remembered the melody and I sang my own sad song. A note of hope came to my mind, clear and beautiful. It's a little close, it's a little bit.

Another starry sky turned over me and passed again. The eternally flickering universe is looking down at me. I could feel the scorching weight coming from above. I should have gone down, but here I am, alone in the cold wind.

I have spent three months on earth. A blink of an eye, a slighter presence. A warm whisper spread silently underground—and in the upper realms—and I felt eternally alone.

Ahead, I heard the soft-skinned man. They can't sing, they just shout. Their tones are scratching and colliding, without melody or harmony. They burn flesh with false fire. The smell of fat polluted the air, and the stench suffocated me. Why would they do it? There is so much earth, enough for everything.

That melody called me weakly. It's not close. The famous stone is already very close.

I have to explain; Soft-skinned people don't understand. Their race is only three reincarnations so young; They're just beginning to dig; They haven't unlocked the initial below. They could talk, but I didn't hear them sing. They will learn.

I put the song of the Calm Continent in their minds so that they can feel the great beauty we experience while we are sleeping. I sing for my dead people so they know what they have stolen.

The soft-skinned man did not respond with a singing voice. They didn't seem to hear my song, so I passed it on to their minds with a bigger voice. I sing of our famous stones, the famous stones that have been wrongly taken away. Please give them back, they belong to us. You've murdered a whole cluster. Please don't take it away with our future. I sing the song of begging. Please let me take those crystals back into the depths of darkness so they can meet us again. I sang a song of healing.

The softskin men were still shouting at each other. One of them let out a rhythmic sound... Laughter? I suddenly felt like I was being crushed by air inside me, so I started digging. The weight around me gives me peace of mind.

Why can't they see the destruction they have caused? You have no compassion, you are cruel. How can you cut us off like this?

My shell began to glow with an angry sky-white light. I'm not going to let these soft-skinned people wipe us out.

I rushed out of the sand and heard them scream. I summon energy from the ground and store power in my famous stones. A soft-skinned man hurled a splitting blade at me, striking me in the leg and shattering on my glowing shell. You will only sing about death. I can sing this song as well. I let out the energy of the sun's rays, and sharp crystals erupted from the ground, piercing flesh and cracking bones.

The fire of falsehood spread in their panic. Primitive structures made of twigs and hides began to burn in the darkness, carrying soft-skinned people into the flames, smoke billowing to send sacrifices to the twinkling stars. The soft-skinned man fled in confusion, but I was faster. I went around them, dragged out a straggler, and cut him in half with my claws. I crushed another soft-skinned man with my foot. Blood stained the sand red. I screamed in mourning, not a song but a cry. Your blood is not worthy to stain me or us.

My tail whipped from side to side, and I knocked the soft-skinned man down and lower. I summoned the sun's rays again, and more crystal spikes erupted from the sand, piercing the flesh. So, you can still hear my singing.

I'm just as cruel as they are. I am violent. I am death.

Now when I go into the dream, all I can see is rage. I no longer qualify to enter the dark depths. But I couldn't stop.

Only the last one remains. The soft-skinned man trembled and held a glowing wooden-handled iron vessel. She wanted to kill me. A false ray of sunlight shot out of that thing, piercing my hard shell and burning my inside. The light reflected inside my crystal, paralyzing me. I struggled with the pain. I can't move. I'm damaged. I'm finished.

A faint singing voice came to my mind. It's a little close, it's a little bit. We are one.

She pointed the weapon at me again, and I shivered with fear as I saw the pale stone tied to the weapon. Her weapons absorb our vibrations. They are wasting crystals to give power to their terrible songs. I felt like I was going to explode in rage and pain, but instead, I drew power from the ground. I yelled and threw out my tail spike to impale the soft-skinned man, who writhed like a worm. I grabbed my weapon and crushed it with my claws. It shattered to ashes, leaving only the famous stone of the white light of the sky.

I protect the crystal with my mouth, and it's safe here. I'm here, and we're one.

I curled back the tail thorn and she fell to the ground. Don't come back. Don't take away our famous stones. We are not yours. We are one. We belong only to the depths of darkness.

I left her alive, and she ran away. She lives not because of my kindness, but because I know that she has heard my dream song, and she has no choice but to sing.