Four thousand years (on)

I am a monk and walk around. Traveling across mountains and mountains, practicing in the wilderness, day after day, year after year.
I can't remember how many years I have spent traveling like this. I can't even figure out how much land I have measured with my feet. I only remember how the wind cream covered my hair at 1.1 o'clock and dyed them white. I only remember how the years accumulated at 1.1 o'clock in my eyes, and made them increasingly deep. Gradually, people looked at me with more reverence and alienation. They started to call me "God ".
God, a ridiculous title. And I held such a title until I died.
Until you die. No one has ever thought of removing this title from me, even the children I have chosen.
Even if they have such a title.
Maybe it's because they have such a ridiculous title.
I personally gave them such a ridiculous title. I personally lead them to this road of no returning.
And will they inherit my fate?

They call themselves samurai soldiers.
Samurai. Military personnel.
Once upon a time, I was also a warrior with a gold armor and a gold sword in hand.
At that time, I was a big deal than they were now.
If you are young, you will naturally be overwhelmed.
Just like me now, I want to become a world-famous hero.
Until a armor changed my life.
It may not be accurate to say that it is a armor, but it is indeed a armor, a walking, talking armor, A armor that can rain and go over the cloud, and make waves.
In memory, the sky is raining, pouring rain.
Noisy.
Noisy wind. Noisy rain. Noisy voice. Noisy horse sounds.
The armor stood at the end of the noisy, and looked down upon the chaotic crowd.
Every step forward, the complaints from the above will become stronger and stronger.
However, I do not care. I still don't care when I face the armor.
I just pulled out the sword.
The burstable impact of the Golden blade. The spark of growth. A huge bang. Splash of water.
There are also static noises.
Armor was cut by my sword and fell to the ground, no activity.
Together, the resentment has not been dispelled.
It has been defeated by me. It has not been wiped out by me.
Maybe one day, it will resume.
At that time, it would be another attack.
I win. Similarly, I lost.
However, I am unwilling.

I took this armor on a journey again.
Travel is no longer aimlessly. I am searching for ways to resolve my grievances.
It is neither an ideal nor a responsibility, but simply unwilling to do so.
Unwilling to win or lose. What I want is a complete victory. That's all.
I want this armor, and I can no longer reproduce it.
I don't feel at ease when I get angry with armor.
This is my wish and my obsession.
However, I did not think that this search is a millennium.

A hundred years of life. The time of the millennium cannot be short.
A thousand years of time is enough to sharpen my strength and eliminate my pride.
Let me witness the rise and fall of a tribe.
Even enough to let me unload the warrior's armor and put on a monk's coat.
I don't believe in Buddha. However, as time passes, I gradually feel that the identity of a monk is more suitable for me than that of a warrior.
The yellow Sword turned into a gold rod, and the armed man turned into a walker. The victory and defeat points gradually fade away from your mind.
I can't care about it after all.
However, for thousands of years, it was finally not enough to let me completely eliminate this armor.
Even though I have split it into nine parts.
Even though I already have nine seals on it.
My eyes turned to 1.1 points of resentment. Although I was eager to stop it, I was always unable to catch it.
In the past millennium, it was finally restored twice.
Two retries, two major robberies.

For the first time, it extinct my tribe.
At that time, it was more than five hundred years away from the last battle.
After all, people cannot compete with time, and even me is no exception.
For whatever reason, my aging speed is much slower than the average person. However, over the past five hundred years, I have clearly known that I have never been that year.
The confluence of resentment never stops. As I foresee it, the more powerful it will be after the resurrection.
I know that I have to find new fighters, young and strong enough.
Enough soldiers to hold the world.
But it was me who contributed to its first resumption of life.

There are nine pieces of armor around me.
Each piece is a part of the armor.
Every one has a great force.
Each of them holds a human heart.
The grievances of the human soul and armor have been entangled for countless years.

I found nine teenagers from various places, and I gave them armor.
I hope that they will be able to compete with the demon emperor from the armor.
I hope for them to purify the evil of armor with their own hearts.
However, I did not calculate it.

I forgot, people will change, and I forget the will of armor.
Nine teenagers, nine hearts.
The four hearts, assimilated by armor, penetrate into the ambition of the demon, and finally revived the emperor of the demon.
The four teenagers, along with their armor, also entered the demon world.

The Overlord of the compound generation attacked my tribe.
Bloodshot. Desperate shouting. Furious laughter. Senson white bone.
Five teenagers fought against the demon soldiers and approached the demon's world step by step.
Jianguang. Shadow. The teenager's body fell to the ground.
The smile once turned into nothing.
But I cannot look back.
Stepping on the blood of the People, crossing the dead bones of the teenagers, the gold rod in the hand will eventually seal the demon world.
The five teenagers, along with my entire tribe, have all gone to bed.
No survivors found.
With 5 pieces of armor folded, I continued my journey.