The Legend of the Northern Saint

"All life is in ruins, demons are rampant, there is the God-killing Sword in the north, there is the sun and moon bell in the south, there is a big beauty in the east, and a little lolita in the west, but it is me, a bad old man, who tells this story." In the blood desert, an old man with a red beard was drinking and instilling the true meaning of history to a circle of people surrounding him. "We know the Four Saints. This is a name we have heard in our ears since we were children." A cute little girl with a smile like a lotus was pulling the old man's beard and said, "That Saint is a poor man. While drinking the fine wine, the old man glanced into the distance, and an invisible space vibration flashed past in the distance. "Huh, my hair went crazy when I heard about the Northern Saint." The old man walked into the tent while sipping the fine wine. He sat down silently and took a drop of blood from his eyes. As soon as he put his hands together, it was diluted in the old man's hand. After being released, he was wiped on the center of his own eyebrows. The desert wind whistled like an unwilling person singing about his desire for revenge. Suddenly, the sky in the desert dawned. It was night. With a muffled sound, the old man opened his eyes in the tent. An eye between his eyebrows was like a condensed universe. Destiny is unbreakable and has passed through the past and present, and great changes have occurred." This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.