Chapter 21 such a fighter

To have such a warrior— They are no longer ignorant like African natives with bright Mausers on their backs; nor are they tired like Chinese Green Battalion soldiers with box cannons.He has no armor of cowhide and scrap iron; he has only himself, but with the savage javelin that throws his hands away. He walked into the formation of nothing, and everyone he met nodded to him.He knew that this nod was the enemy's weapon, a weapon that killed people without blood. Many soldiers died here, just like shells, making the warriors useless. There are various flags on those heads, and various good names are embroidered: philanthropist, scholar, scribe, elder, youth, elegant person, gentleman... .There are all kinds of coats under the head, embroidered with all kinds of good patterns: learning, morality, national quintessence, public opinion, logic, justice, oriental civilization...

But he raised his javelin. They all swore an oath and spoke with one voice, that their hearts were in the center of their breasts, like any other partial human being. They all wear breastplates on their breasts, testifying to what they themselves believe to be in the center of their breasts. But he raised his javelin. He smiled and threw a throw, but it hit their hearts. Everything fell down;—but only one coat, and nothing in it.The nothingness has escaped and won the victory, for he is now a sinner against philanthropists and the like. But he raised his javelin. He strides through nothingness, nods of goodbye, all kinds of flags, all kinds of coats...

But he raised his javelin. He finally aged and died in the nothingness.He is not a fighter after all, but nothing is the winner. In such a situation, no one has heard the cry of war: peace. Taiping... But he raised his javelin! December 14, 1925.