The Great Dream God

Under the bright sunshine, Nan Qinglong is like a god from ancient mythology, wearing a blue robe as deep as the vast sea of ​​stars, like a flowing ink painting, walking leisurely in the world. The blue robe dances in the wind like splashed ink, and every fiber tells an endless story, like the stars in the night, deep, charming and fascinating.

His steps were steady and powerful, and each one was like a giant elephant stepping on the ground, silent but shocking, as if he struck the gong of power in the silence of time and space, and the deep echo lingered in the air for a long time, touching the soul of every onlooker and making them tremble in awe. His shadow was stretched out by the sunlight, like a deep tunnel through history, full of unknowns and mysteries, which was hard to fathom.

Facing those officers and soldiers with tall and straight postures and sharp eyes, Nan Qinglong's appearance was like a mountain pressing down on their heads. Although their eyes were as hot as fire, they couldn't help but reveal a trace of awe under this majesty. Their upright bodies trembled slightly, and they dared not neglect or despise him in the slightest.

Nan Qinglong's eyes were as hard as cast iron. He looked at everyone fearlessly. His voice was like a huge bell, resounding through the sky and echoing between heaven and earth: "This man is a loyal man of our County Lord's Mansion. There is no doubt about his belonging. There is no need for you to comment further. Here, I implore you all not to blame him because of a temporary misunderstanding, and not to trap him because of unwarranted suspicion. He is our brother, our comrade-in-arms. We should protect his honor and dignity together."

Every word he said was like a thunderbolt, resounding, and every word was like a dazzling pearl, strung together into an impeccable chain of truth, emitting an unquestionable light of authority, illuminating the hearts of everyone present. His words were both a declaration and a promise, the highest respect for loyalty and honor, and made everyone present remember deeply that this was the responsibility of a leader and the oath of a guardian.

In the hustle and bustle of the city, Bei Baihu stands out. Sitting in the corner, he is like a towering mountain, quiet and solemn. His existence itself is a kind of sculptural art. His face, as hard as iron and stone, turns slowly, like an ancient clock whispering the vicissitudes of time.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and a faint smile quietly blossomed on his resolute face, like the breeze of early spring blowing across the snowy fields in the cold winter. The subtle change was profound and rich in connotation, making people intoxicated by it and explore the story behind the smile.

The wide sleeves of his robe were like the vast galaxy, unfathomable, and every tiny wrinkle seemed to hide the secrets of the universe, arousing people's reverie. The sleeves of the robe swayed gently, as if stardust was flowing, and a few exquisite silver ingots slipped down inadvertently. They sparkled in the sun, like the warm sun in winter, warm and brilliant, instantly lighting up the entire market. The dazzling light attracted people's attention like a magnet, making it impossible for people to look away.

The officers and soldiers who had turned pale upon hearing the word "Princess" were now like fallen leaves swept by the cold wind, and their fear could not be further increased. However, when they caught a glimpse of the shining silver ingot, their expressions instantly turned respectful, as if they had met their master's beloved pug, and they quickly bowed and saluted, with smiles as gentle and humble as spring water. Their voices became flattering, "It turns out that you are the distinguished guests of Princess Ziyang's mansion, and everything has a reasonable explanation." Their words were full of flattery, "Kyoto is more prosperous because of such distinguished guests. Their wealth is like a rushing river, nourishing this land, making our lives as colorful as a painting, and injecting more laughter and joyful melodies into this bustling city."

The golden sunlight filled the bustling streets, like the hand of the sky gently brushing the strings of the earth, playing a solemn morning song. The officers and soldiers stood tall and straight, like pine trees, and looked more majestic under the baptism of the sun. They slowly and orderly withdrew, each step with respect and loyalty, as if paying the highest tribute to the noble figure. The back figure gradually walked away in the halo, but the calmness and majesty became more and more vivid, like a painting outlined by light and shadow, imprinted in the hearts of every person who saw it off. This is a glorious scene belonging to the early morning, a quiet and solemn moment, permanently embedded in the memory of the bustling street scene by the sun.

At this moment, four guards from the Princess' Mansion, dressed in brocade clothes, stood beside the bustling street. Their sleeves fluttered like four flowing brocade scrolls. The patterns outlined by gold lines shone brightly in the sunlight, reflecting the majesty and dignity of power. The swords hanging from their waists shone with cold light, revealing meticulous solemnity in silence. The guards looked solemn, their eyes were like torches, and they scanned the surroundings vigilantly, as if any tiny movement could not escape their sharp sight.

They slowly turned their heads, their eyes fixed on the towering Mengjin, as if being pulled by an invisible force and unable to extricate themselves. Their faces were engraved with deep helplessness and endless awe, like a painting painted with silence and emotion, telling of the complex emotions towards the strong. Mengjin, this name is engraved in their hearts like a brand, and every mention of it is a tremor in their hearts.

Meng Jin's aura is grand and profound, like a towering mountain, stretching across people's sight, making people dare not look up easily. His existence is like an unshakable mountain, eroded by wind and rain, and the passage of time, but it always stands proudly, and no one can shake it. His eyes are as sharp as a knife, insightful of the world, and his silence is as deep as the sea, hiding endless stories and wisdom.

Every move he made revealed a kind of transcendent majesty, which was the trace of years of accumulation and the symbol of his unique personality. People were in awe of him because he was like a pillar between heaven and earth, bearing unspeakable pressure but always persevering.

They shook their heads slowly, their movements were as gentle as the morning breeze blowing across the ripples on the lake, and then they resolutely turned around, like two elegant swans, and gracefully plunged into the bustling crowd. At that moment, their figures were swallowed up by the hustle and bustle, like an exquisite oil painting, gradually fading out of sight, and finally disappearing in the visual boundary that seemed like a dream.

Their parting was like a grand ballet, with a breathtakingly beautiful ending. The lights on the stage dimmed, leaving only the subtle emotions they left behind in the air, an indescribable melancholy, like the trembling tail of a piano string, long and far-reaching. Amid the noise of the crowd, the faint aftertaste quietly echoed in the corner of every heart, like the ripples of moonlight on the silent lake, silent but touching the heartstrings.

They just left like that, with a transcendent silence that made the whole world become unusually quiet at that moment.