Share
MidReal Story
The Wandering Swordsman： A Tale Of Love And Friendship In The Tang Dynasty
Scenario:我是一名空间和时间的穿越者和旅行者，目前，生活在地球上，使用中国名字，当然，也有其他许多外国名字，我见过了太多其他星球文明的崛起和陨落，根据这个题材，完成一篇不低于250万字的长篇小说，脑洞打开，天马星空的想象，用你最大的能力尽情发挥，要求内容要合理，语句连贯易懂，让读者爱不释手，内容跌宕起伏。每章不低于2000字，并给出章节名称
Create my version of this story
Protagonists
My Chinese name is Liu Hui.
Of course, I also have many other names that sound like a foreigner.
I am a traveler through space and time.
I have lived on several planets and seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
I am currently on Earth and in the 8th century Tang Dynasty.
The sword in my hand is very familiar to me.
I have been practicing swordsmanship since I was a child, and I have also fought on several planets.
I am not bragging, but I am indeed a master of the sword.
I walked out of the inn, looking around in wonder.
The people passing by me are so familiar yet so unfamiliar.
They are all speaking in Chinese, and I am happy to hear this language that I am so used to.
I walked through the streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the city.
I paused near a tea house, where two merchants were huddled in conversation.
They were speaking in hushed tones, but I could still make out some of their words.
"... General An Lushan is gathering his forces north of Chang'an," one of them said.
"I heard that he has already begun to march towards the capital," the other replied.
I pretended to study the goods at a nearby stall while straining to hear more of their conversation.
"... I was trading in Hebei last month, and I saw his troops moving through the countryside," the first merchant said.
"They were well-trained and well-equipped. I have no doubt that they will be able to take the capital."
I walked away from the tea house, lost in thought.
It seemed that there was indeed a rebellion brewing in the Tang Dynasty.
I had lived through many rebellions in my centuries-long life, and I knew that they could be dangerous and unpredictable.
I decided that I needed to find out more about this rebellion and what was happening in the capital.
I walked through the streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the city.
The people passing by me were all going about their daily business, seemingly unaware of the danger that was lurking in the shadows. I stopped at a street stall and purchased a map of the northern territories.
The merchant who sold it to me was nervous and fidgety, glancing around as if he feared being overheard.
"Be careful, traveler," he whispered as he handed me the map.
"There are those who would not take kindly to you having this information."
I thanked him and continued on my way, studying the map as I walked.
It seemed that General An Lushan's forces were indeed gathering north of Chang'an, and it appeared that they were preparing to march on the capital.
I wondered what had caused this rebellion, and what kind of man General An Lushan was.
I decided that I needed to find out more about him and his plans, and so I set off towards the capital.
As I walked, I noticed that there were many soldiers patrolling the streets.
They were all wearing uniforms with the emblem of General An Lushan on them, and they seemed to be searching for something or someone. "What is going on?" one of them asked me as they stopped me on the street.
"I am just a traveler," I replied.
"I am not involved in any rebellion."
The soldier eyed me suspiciously, but he eventually let me go with a warning to be careful.
I turned the corner, determined to uncover the truth before history unfolded in blood.
Ducking behind a fruit vendor's cart, I carefully fold the map and tuck it into my sleeve.
The patrol's heavy footsteps fade behind me as I weave through the market's narrow paths.
Merchants hawk their wares while peasants haggle over prices, creating a wall of noise that helps mask my movements.
I pause at a tea stall, pretending to examine the leaves while scanning for more soldiers.
The vendor eyes me warily but says nothing.
A group of Buddhist monks passes by, their orange robes bright against the gray buildings.
I slip into their ranks, blending in with their silent procession toward the temple.
The elderly monk at the back of the group catches my eye and nods knowingly, gesturing for me to walk beside him.
His weathered face shows no judgment, only a hint of understanding.
We proceed in silence, following the winding streets that lead to the temple gates.
The other monks pay us no mind, their focus solely on the evening's rituals.
As we reach the gates, the elderly monk touches my sleeve where the map lies hidden.
He says nothing, but I sense a flicker of curiosity behind his eyes.
He guides me through the courtyard toward the prayer hall, its incense-scented air wafting through the growing darkness.
We stop near a side entrance, its shadows providing a convenient escape route if needed.
Inside the dimly lit prayer hall, he leads me past rows of wooden benches where other monks kneel in meditation.
Flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows on the temple walls as fragrant incense smoke curls through the air.
The elderly monk guides me to a secluded alcove near the back, partially hidden behind a wooden screen carved with lotus flowers.
He gestures for me to sit on a worn meditation cushion, then takes a seat beside me.
Through the lattice of the screen, I watch other monks performing their evening rituals while keeping my map concealed from prying eyes.
The elderly monk signals to a young acolyte who approaches our alcove.
The young monk's hands tremble slightly as he holds out an ornate bronze key.
The key's weathered surface catches the candlelight, revealing intricate inscriptions that I recognize from my travels through time.
The elderly monk rises slowly, gesturing for me to follow.
He leads us toward a section of the wall partially hidden behind a tapestry depicting scenes of enlightenment.
The young monk inserts the key into a small keyhole, and with a satisfying click, a small wooden door swings open.
A musty scent wafts out, carrying the whispers of aged scrolls.
I hesitate at the threshold, knowing that this ancient library could hold crucial information about An Lushan's rebellion and the fate of the Tang dynasty.
But entering means revealing my true identity to these monks. The young monk holds the door open, his eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation.
I step into the dimly lit chamber, the floorboards creaking softly beneath my feet.
Shelves of ancient scrolls tower around us, their edges illuminated by the flickering candlelight from the prayer hall.
The air is heavy with the scent of aged parchment and forgotten knowledge.
The young monk closes the door softly behind us, and I hear the click of the lock engaging once more.
The elderly monk shuffles toward a worn wooden desk in the center of the room, its surface cluttered with maps and scrolls.
I notice that several scroll cases bear markings similar to those on the bronze key—the symbols of time travel.
My fingers absently trace the intricate carvings on a nearby scroll case, feeling a sense of familiarity wash over me.
The young monk approaches me cautiously, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
Before he can speak, I reach into my sleeve and produce both the map and a small, intricately carved device adorned with the same mystical engravings as the key. The elderly monk glances up from his desk, his weathered hands already unrolling a yellowed scroll.
The young monk's hands tremble as he takes the device from me and holds it up to the dim lamplight.
He carefully compares it to the markings on the ancient scrolls.
The elderly monk unfurls a yellowed document covered in the familiar symbols of time travel, pointing at specific characters that match the engravings on my device.
With a quiet nod, the young monk aligns my device with a circular pattern on one of the scrolls.
To my amazement, the symbols on both my device and the scroll begin to glow with a faint blue light, illuminating the chamber in an ethereal hue.
The young monk's voice is barely a whisper, "This means you truly are the Traveler from the legends."
The elderly monk looks at me with newfound respect, "Then you must know the consequences of altering history."
I nod solemnly, "That's why I need your help to ensure the past remains unchanged."
The elderly monk's hand freezes mid-gesture, his eyes widening in alarm.
A deep rumble vibrates through the chamber, causing the scrolls to slide off their shelves in waves.
They thud against the floor, creating a chaotic symphony.
I lunge forward to catch an ancient-looking case before it falls, but my footing falters as the tremor intensifies.
The young monk grabs a lantern before it crashes down, its flame flickering precariously.
Behind where the fallen scrolls had been, dark stones shift and grind against each other, revealing the edge of an opening.
A cold draft whistles through the gap, carrying the scent of damp earth and forgotten secrets.
The young monk's voice quivers with urgency, "This passage... it was never meant to be opened."
The old monk's hand froze in mid-air, a flicker of fear gleaming in his eyes, as if the gears of fate were quietly turning.
I step closer to the opening, feeling the chill seep into my bones, "Then perhaps it's time we uncover what history has hidden away."
I grip the bronze lantern tightly, its light casting flickering shadows on the walls.
A musty draft wafts from the dark tunnel ahead, carrying with it secrets buried for centuries.
The young monk's hand tugs at my sleeve, his voice hushed in urgency, "Ancient texts speak of protective traps guarding this path. We must be cautious."
I gently pull away from his grasp, "We cannot turn back now. The truth lies ahead."
Stone steps descend into the blackness, their edges worn smooth by countless unknown feet.
The lantern light reveals faded characters etched into the walls - a script I've never seen in all my travels.
As we make our way deeper, the vibrations through the stone grow more pronounced.
Loose pebbles skitter down the stairs ahead of us, disappearing into the darkness.
I pause at the end of the tunnel, where the tremors have exposed a hidden doorway.
Raising my lantern, I illuminate weathered stone walls covered in strange symbols that pulse with a faint blue luminescence.
The elderly monk's hands shake as he traces the glowing characters, muttering ancient prayers under his breath.
The young monk produces their bronze key, which fits perfectly into a circular depression beside the entrance.
As he turns it, grinding stone echoes through the passage.
The door slowly swings open, revealing shelves of crystalline artifacts and metallic scrolls that emit an otherworldly light.
I move cautiously into the glowing chamber, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
The elderly monk grabs my sleeve, his voice a hushed warning, "We must not disturb the balance of ancient powers."
I gently pull away from his grasp, my eyes fixed on the crystal spheres perched on metal pedestals.
They pulse with a blue-white light, casting moving shadows across the walls.
The young monk follows reluctantly, clutching their bronze key as if it holds the weight of centuries.
I approach the nearest shelf, where metallic scrolls emit a soft hum.
As I reach for one that seems to call to me, the crystals suddenly flash brighter.
The elderly monk's voice rises in alarm, "Stop! Those scrolls are the keepers of forbidden knowledge."
I hesitate, my hand hovering just above the scroll, "But what if they hold the answers we seek?"
The young monk steps forward, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination, "If we choose to read them, we must be prepared for the consequences."
I lower my outstretched hand, letting it fall to my side.
Instead of grabbing the scroll, I circle the shelves slowly, cataloging the artifacts with my eyes alone.
The young monk follows close behind, the bronze key clutched tightly to his chest.
As we round a corner, I notice a series of metal scrolls with intricate markings etched into their surfaces.
One of them catches my eye - the symbols are identical to those I found on An Lushan's troop movements.
I motion for the elderly monk to come closer, and he peers at the scroll through the crystalline glow.
He nods solemnly before reaching into his robes and producing a cloth-wrapped bundle.
Unwrapping it reveals an ancient drawing, yellowed with age.
The symbols etched into its surface are identical to those on the scroll.
The elderly monk's voice trembles with a mix of awe and fear, "This drawing was passed down through generations, a warning of the power contained within."
The young monk glances between us, his voice barely above a whisper, "If these scrolls hold the secrets of An Lushan's downfall, they could change everything we know."
I meet their eyes, determination hardening my resolve, "Then we must decide if the risk is worth the knowledge we might gain."
I unfold the delicate painting on a stone pedestal while both monks hover anxiously nearby.
The parchment crackles as I smooth it out, revealing faded ink patterns that mirror the glowing symbols on the metal scroll.
Using my finger, I trace the matching characters - one shows troops moving through mountain passes, another depicts fallen soldiers.
The young monk leans in with the bronze key, pointing to a recurring pattern.
When I align the central symbol of the painting with the markings on the scroll, a subtle vibration pulses through the chamber.
The elderly monk gasps, his eyes widening with realization, "This is the map to the hidden fortress, the one lost to time and legend."
The young monk's voice trembles with excitement and fear, "If we find it, we could uncover the truth behind An Lushan's betrayal."
I nod, feeling the weight of history pressing upon us, "Then our path is clear—we must follow where these symbols lead."
In the dim glow of the crystal-lit chamber, I stand close to the young monk as we both reach for the metal scroll.
Our fingers brush accidentally, sending an unexpected jolt through me.
He hesitates, his hand hovering near mine, neither of us immediately pulling away.
The elderly monk continues studying the symbols behind us, unaware of this charged moment.
The young monk's eyes meet mine briefly before he clears his throat and steps back, his face flushed in the blue light.
I hold the cool metal scroll in my trembling hands, its surface catching the blue crystal light.
The young monk moves closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he steadies my grip on the ancient artifact.
Its weight feels significant, heavier than expected for its size.
Strange markings along the edges begin to shimmer as my fingers trace their patterns.
The elderly monk mutters a prayer behind us, his voice barely audible over the low hum emanating from the scroll.
When I attempt to unroll it, the metal resists, as if testing my resolve.
With a deep breath, I focus my will, and the scroll yields, revealing secrets long buried in time.
As I hold the unrolled metal scroll, its symbols begin pulsing with an intensifying blue-white radiance.
The young monk's hands tremble against mine while we struggle to keep the heavy scroll open.
The light spreads outward, creating a dome of luminescence that envelops us.
The crystals in the chamber flicker in response, as if they are being awakened by the scroll's power.
When I try to step back, I find my feet rooted in place.
The elderly monk's prayers grow more urgent as the light crawls up our arms like living threads.
The young monk whispers urgently, "It's binding us to its will—do you feel it?"
I nod, my voice barely a whisper, "Yes, it's as if the scroll is alive, choosing us for something greater."
The elderly monk's voice rises above the hum, filled with both awe and warning, "We must be cautious; such power demands a price."