Brother Chun, a real man’s man, a true iron-blooded warrior. At one, he could slaughter chickens; at three, he built airplanes.
At five, he drove tanks; at six, he donned iron armor. His fame spread a hundred miles across the four borders, striking terror into every soul.
If you ask who could stand against this warrior? All would wave their hands in fear! At ten, he trained in martial arts; at twelve, he mastered magic.
By fifteen, he understood electricity, generating hundreds of watts with a blink. His muscular frame radiated power, his spirit shook the four seas.
Ask how strong Brother Chun is? He can stretch his arms wide enough to let a train pass through! At nineteen, he trained in speed, chasing rockets.
At twenty, he joined the men’s soccer team, delivering kicks that could end a man’s line. When Brother Chun took the field, opponents cowered—Brazil and Germany surrendered.
Ask how mighty his strength? A single breath conjures tornadoes!
At thirty, he mastered eye techniques, slaughtering Sharingan users.
At forty, he relished memorizing texts—the British Library in his mind.
With a wave, he shaped the cosmos; all creation bowed to this hero.
Ask how vast his magic? Jesus and Buddha step aside!
At fifty, he ruled the mortal realm; at sixty, he governed the three realms.
At seventy, a single clenched jaw shatters heaven and earth. Boundless power breeds loneliness; finding life dull, he retires from the world.
He lifts his head in silent contemplation of the green mountains, where wild beasts wail in unison. Brother Chun thus becomes legend, his tale passed down through the ages.
Looking back at the land of flowers in bloom, a thousand chrysanthemums unfurl on the mountaintop. One burst of chrysanthemum blossoms makes the concubine smile—none know it is Brother Chun who has arrived.
标签： Brother Chun