In my memory, every arrow of the Yuan soldiers was shot very accurately, Zhu Yuanzhang's Hongwu knife technique was suppressed by the white-haired old man riding a white deer, and he often stood in the wind and snow with a spear in his hand until he died.

And I've been in this mountain for five years, and I haven't been down in five years. Because when I woke up, I saw a hermit who had been living in seclusion here for many years, her name was Chang Anjiu, and she told me that Zhu Yuanzhang was still alive, but I couldn't see him now.

There is always some mystery in the words of the world's masters, and this sense of mystery comes from the fact that they never say it completely, and Chang Changjiu is no exception.

She asked me to call her master, and for the first four years she taught me how to use weapons.

In the first year of the fourth year, she asked me if I had ever killed someone, and I said yes. She asked me again if I could use a sword, and I said no.

That day was my first spring on the mountain, the grass in the south of the Yangtze River grew, the warblers flew wildly, the peach blossoms were fragrant, the spring breeze was gentle like sympathetic breathing, and the swordsmanship she taught me was called the Lover's Sword.

In the second year of four years, she asked me if I had learned to use a sword, and I said yes. She asked me again if I could use a knife, and I said no.

That day was the second summer I went up the mountain, in July in the south of the Yangtze River, the sun was like fire, the wind passed through the forest, sometimes there was a slight cool like sympathy for the cold and heat, she taught me the knife technique called the residual hatred knife.

In the third year of four years, she asked me if I had learned to use a knife, and I said yes. She asked me again if I could use a hook, and I said no.

That day was my third autumn on the mountain, the water in the south of the Yangtze River was cool, the leaves were separated from the branches, the north swallow went south, everything was saying goodbye to the back of the person who was leaving, and the hook method she taught me was called the parting hook.

In the fourth year of the four years, she asked me if I had learned to use a hook, and I said yes. She asked me again if I could use arrows, and I said no.

That day was the fourth winter I went up the mountain, everything was dead and silent, the empty branches were full of hatred, the snow was like white hair, and the white earth was as clean as sympathetic to people's hearts that no longer warmed up, and the archery she taught me was called the Heart-piercing Arrow.

In the fifth year, she said that I had learned all the kung fu she knew, and as long as I practiced diligently for this year, I could go down the mountain and return to Mingjiao to find Zhu Yuanzhang.

This year, I have been practicing the kung fu she taught me in the first four years.

On this day, when I was coming down the mountain, she told me that you would live in this plane until you came, but you would live in a different capacity.

I asked her why she knew, and she said that she, like me, came from a thousand years ago, and that she had lived here for a thousand years, and that she would have to live another thousand years before returning to the time when she came.

I didn't have the slightest panic after listening, I am no longer the person I was when I first came to the Ming Dynasty, I am used to being here, especially when I know that I am Liu Bowen, I will work with Zhu Yuanzhang to create the Ming Dynasty, and we are about to establish the Ming Dynasty, so I am even more reluctant to be here.

When she sent me down the mountain, she said to me, "You must be famous here, realize your retribution, and I will teach you for five years in vain." ”

I said, "Definitely."

I put the sword on my back and re-entered the Daming River.

The boat travels in the spring water of the south of the Yangtze River, the sunrise river flowers are red, and the warm breeze blows in my face, blowing up my thin silk green shirt.

A pair of swallows landed on the vermilion bridge, bowing their heads and whispering, like a lover in love whispering intimately.

There was a young girl sitting on the shore, who was in the mood for love, and she seemed to know that I was looking at her, and asked me with flashing eyes: "Hero, where do you come from and where are you going?"