The story is over. Perhaps there is no future beyond it. If you can't keep reading, just skip to the end. Every story will live on in the hearts of its characters.
(No System! No invincibility! No crushing everyone! No peerless genius with unmatched wisdom! And no golden finger or mysterious old mentor! This is a book I wanted to read and wanted to write. It's a simple story, nothing special.)
Deep in the Ten Thousand Mountains, the wind stirred a patch of bellflowers. Their pleasant chimes heralded the arrival of a person and a dog.
A shadow on a distant tree trunk watched them arrive, sensing the boundless potential within them. After talking with them, it too decided to join their group. Thus, the Pig-Headed Marshal, the Dog-Headed Strategist, and the Squirrel Vanguard formed a team of three. An extraordinary story began, built upon humble beginnings.
Rejoice! The glorious past has all converged here.
Time will prove everything. The final king.
I am very disappointed, because it is defined by the system. I have no so-called labels. All I want to write is happiness, happiness, and the threesome of sand sculptures. Even if I write tens of thousands of words a day, no one will read it, and there will be no comments. I ask myself that there is no mess, no random writing, and no collapse to completely describe the story I want to write. My book failed, and no one has lost. This era does not belong to this book. In the future, this book will be a place that no one can reach. Time will tell everyone. If you want to know the future, just go and find it.