When the fragrance of osmanthus filled the seventh autumn day, Ayan suddenly knocked over the steamer at the Jiangchun Bridge. She looked at her fingertips stained with frosting, and memories poured down like an avalanche - a hundred years ago, accompanied by the snowy sky, the young swordsman Cheng Shuzhou knelt on the jade steps and inquired about the path to immortality... At this moment, the fire of karma on the demon altar was licking the immortal chain, and the demonic lines grew wildly along Cheng Shuzhou's pale neck.
It turns out that what is engraved on the Sansheng Stone is never a good story, but their destined fate. Fate is like a knife, splitting the gods and demons into two entangled souls. Until one snowy midnight, the copper bell on the eaves suddenly broke into the moonlight...
Reader comments
The writing is very good, not bad, come on, come on, come on!
The writing is very good, not bad, come on, come on, come on!