“The amber sunrise glowed softly above the rice paddies
while peasants in straw cloaks
laboured against the cold.”
A man of peace, although I was born to war.
A man of peace, standing eight foot tall, towering above my fellows.
When my Master called, I followed.
The guqin called us to war, as once I had taught it to entice the peasants into the fields.
The fight was fierce, my Master, defeated.
Shadows extinguished the Fire Emperor, sent into exile, deep in the uncivilised south.
Executed, to prevent his return.
So again I marched to war, to follow my Master along the final path, through eternal mountains and into the valley of Death. I called him out, the Yellow Emperor, the new king, the usurper.
He took my head, but still I fight on.
Nearly finished, this month has been exhausting.