He remembered everything about himself, of course, including his real name: his name is Jincu, and he was once the leader of a large group of demon clans, and was called "Fan King". Under his leadership, this group of demon clans saved many similar species, but eventually became slaves of demonic species. They needed the amnesty of the ancestors of the Taoist dynasty to save their lives.

Jincuo was ashamed to go back to the land of demons to face his former subordinates. He turned around and walked into the forest, not allowing any demon clan to follow him. At that time, he was not sure what he was going to do, but just wanted to wander alone for a while.

To the north of the forest is a place of monsters, and to the south is a kingdom of humans. Jincuo wanders aimlessly in the forest for several days, drinking thirsty water in the forest, eating unknown wild fruits hungry, and even eating grass directly.

On the fifth day, he finally put aside his self-blame and shame, returned to his form as a brocade-tailed horse, galloped in the forest, raced with deer, and fought with tigers and wolves, and had nothing in his mind.

He never counted the days, so he didn't know how many days had passed, and suddenly fell to the ground, turned into a human form, leaning against a tree, vomiting constantly, being too weak to stand up, and the self-blame and shame that he had thrown away came back in a stronger posture, looking down at him coldly, without saying a word, making him unable to raise his head by just his eyes.

All of his clothes were gone, and he just lay naked under the tree. The animals in the forest licked his body, the insects crawled on him, and the leaves covered him without moving. He did not barely look up until a human voice sounded above his head.

"Do you want to use food for ants? Your skin is too hard, they bite for several days, but they haven't gotten a piece."

Through the leaves blocking his eyes, Jincu saw an old man with a haggard smile at him, his face vaguely familiar. After thinking for a while, he spit out two words: "Go away."

The old man was not tactful, "Since you don't avoid insects and beasts, why should you drive me away?"

Because you can speak, you are even more noisy than the flying insects that make noise the most, Jincuo is too lazy to speak, so he retracts his gaze and doesn't even think about who this person is.

The old man probably felt bored, so he turned around and walked away. After a while, he came back, and brought a piece of dead wooden stake. He placed it next to Jincun, and then sat down slowly. "I used to be strong and powerful. In order to be strong and powerful, I have done many things I shouldn't do. As a result, aging still came, and it came suddenly, defeating me in an instant. At the last moment, I thought I was at the top, and at the next moment I was old, and even my arms and legs were difficult to control."

The old man sighed and looked up at the canopy above his head, as if he was envious of the vigorous vitality of the tree.

"I had lofty ideals, thinking that I could transcend all the struggles in the world and bridge the hatred and killing that lasted for more than 100,000 years. As a result, a small spell made me lose my direction, and my ideals disappeared, and my weight was not as big as a leaf. So I joined the fight, using hatred as a weapon, killing as a means, and practicing all the ugly things I had despised."

"But what's the use of this? Another magic awakened me again, so I realized that what had existed in my heart was not an ideal, but the glory and status obtained after realizing it. I longed for the kneeling and reverence of all living beings. But my strength was insufficient, so I made up an ideal, refused to compete with the strong, and put myself in an invincible position. When I finally gained some strength, I revealed my true face and couldn't wait to join the battle, seize the territory, and recruit disciples."

"But the power is thrown away by me, and I lose the qualification to fight again. I wonder, is there any so-called ideal in this world? Is it just a self-comfort for the weak? In this way, simplicity is just no object to be fought for, greatness is just no opponent, nobility is just blocking the lowliness with walls and guards, kindness is just because disasters happen to others..."

Jincu slowly raised his head, brushed off the leaves on his face, and looked at the old man in surprise, thinking that this was his own hallucination, because the old man's words were almost exactly the same as what he had thoughts these days.

"I just inferred this way, looking for excuses for my temporary weakness and the huge mistakes I made, and I almost convinced myself." The old man lowered his head and looked at the dusty face on the ground.

"Isn't that the case?" Jincu couldn't help but speak, "Everyone acts according to their own strength and wisdom. Some eat grass, some eat meat, some kill, some are killed, and those who can fly will not walk on the ground. Those who can live on others will try every means to maintain their status. There are indeed people in this world who abandon wealth, but have gained a large number of followers and gained another kind of power. Isn't this your ideal? Some people are also ruthless and abandon desires, but they are far beyond mortals in lifespan and magic, and they no longer regard themselves as one of the sentient beings. I have some kind of power, and I have its instinct, and I am just a carrier, I can't do anything, there is nothing right or wrong, it's all your strength that is acting through me. Isn't that the case?"

Jincun hasn't spoken for too long, and every time he spits out a word, he feels blood flowing faster.

"If so, why are you lying here? Your power has not disappeared. You are not rotten meat, but you would rather rot like rotten. What about the instinct of power? Why can't you continue to manipulate you?"

Jincu slowly sat up, "Because... I felt ashamed, and failed to lead the group of monsters to victory, but instead brought them into a desperate situation... No, my true thoughts are not like this. I feel ashamed because my strength is too weak and not worth mentioning in front of the strong. In front of them, I am no different from rotten meat, so I would rather rot from lying here, and I am ashamed of myself."

"So power once dominated you, but now you are dominating your power. You defeated the instinct given to you in another way: you would rather rot than use the remaining power to do evil." The old man stood up and picked up the dead wooden stake. "So weakness is sometimes very useful. Only weakness can bind power. I calm down with my decayed body. You overwhelm the power with the ambition of rotten flesh. The strong in the world are getting higher and higher. They are the power of this world and the madness of this world. Only the weak can pull them down a little and maintain the balance of the world. Look, my ideal is still there."

The old man walked away with a wooden stake, passed by a few trees and disappeared.

Jincu raised his hand and touched his forehead. He was really getting fever. As a big monster who was not too weak, he was actually sick. "Are these all my hallucinations?" He asked himself softly, suddenly remembering who the old man was, "Hong Futian, you are Hong Futian. I have heard you teach the ancient gods, and later you occupied Duanliu City. When you founded the Hong Xiuhui, you were also controlled by the demon seed."

But Jincun had never seen Hong Futian after aging, so he couldn't tell whether the person he had just seen was really illusion. Everything in front of him had not changed. The wild grass was standing upright where the dead wooden stakes lie. It seemed that he had never been oppressed.

Jincuo recovered his shame, picked leaves and made clothes, and walked towards Hong Futian's disappearance, thinking about a question in his mind: If the weak are bound by power, how should he be bound by intention? He was born with demonic power. He has practiced various magical techniques and Taoist techniques since then. During his control of demonic species, he also came into contact with some magical spells, but he did not go deeper. He added some ponds that were like shallow, and could not tolerate big fish at a glance.

He kept walking forward and did not see Hong Futian again. In fact, he had forgotten Hong Futian and focused on his own problems. However, he did not stop. He was thirsty or hungry, so he grabbed something and stuffed it into his mouth, whether it was leaves, fruits, or unlucky insects or lizards.

After three nights and two days, Jincu heard a strange chant, sometimes like a storm, sometimes like a storm, sometimes like a gurgling spring, full of sadness, but the joy of rebirth was mixed in the middle.

He walked along the sound. In a sparse woodland, he saw a group of women, forty or fifty, old and young, walking slowly around a newly piled grave. While crying and singing, everyone took turns to step forward, took a water jug ​​from his predecessors, and poured some water on the grave.

Their steps were like dancing, soothing and sad, but reserved and elegant. They matched the singing. When the last woman was watered, they changed their appearance and took out all kinds of wine pots and wine bags from their arms, and drank them with pain. From then on, crying was a big cry, laughing was a big laugh, and everyone had no concealment of their emotions.

After a while of trouble, the women staggered away from the forest, and only one person was left to cry for a while before getting up to follow their companions.

Jincuo felt indescribable shock in his heart. He had seen countless dead people and buried some of them with his own hands, but had never seen such a funeral.

He asked a woman who passed by him: "Who is the deceased?"

The woman glanced at the man covered in leaves and branches, and did not show any special surprise, as if she knew him, "It was a child who had not even had a name for a short time. We were funeral for him, hoping that his soul would have time to find a new place to live."

"What is watering in front of the grave?"

"We plant a handful of tree seeds. If the seeds can grow, it means that the child's soul has a home. When the tree grows and witheres, the soul will have a chance to become a mother's child again."

Jincun had never heard of this saying, "Where is this place? Are you... human or demon clan?"

The woman walking in front was shouting, and the talking woman hurriedly left, "This is Yelin Town, we are considered humans."

Jincuo understood where these strange women came from, and they were the rumored residents of Zhibubang.

The last woman, the child's mother, also walked away, with tears and smiles on her face. She could finally give up the baby who died prematurely and the grief in her heart and continue her normal life.

Jincuo walked to the grave and looked at the small piece of land that was watered, and a few seeds were growing hard under it, he thought.

He sat down, staring at it without blinking, the sun sets and the sun rises, and his heart remains unmoved. Three days later, he saw the tender buds drill out of the ground. Seven days later, the tender buds grew nearly one foot long. That night, the wind and rain were blowing. At dawn, the tender buds disappeared without a trace. Except for the graves in front of him, Jincun could not find any signs that women had ever existed.

They were also as blurred as illusions, and were not surprised by the appearance of strange men.

Jincuo stood up and felt dizzy. Instead of going to Yelin Town, he walked out of the forest and came to a densely populated place. Facing the people coming up, he raised his thin arms and said, "Please listen to me tell you the way of the weak."

Not long after, he was mistaken for General Mu in Duanliu City, and Jincu accepted the title because they both had the same appearance. He believed that it was easier to continue a belief than to create a belief.

Almost three months later, he was in an unknown valley near the imperial capital, preparing to undergo the first test of life and death in the way of the weak.
Chapter completed!