In my previous life, my Taoist heart was broken and passed away with hatred, but I was reborn in the mourning hall and awakened to the power of the voice of all things; I looked on coldly at the shining leader of the Immortal Sect, but my voice was that of a lonely abandoned dog longing for a hug. In this life, I want to hug this iceberg in public, watch the tips of his ears turn crimson and tremble as he tightens his arms. I want to tear apart the conspiracy of the hypocritical senior brother, and hear the thousand-year taboo he trembled before the thirty-six caves collapsed.
