Before he finished smoking, he was smashed into the wild by a broken bell, and became a congenital gourd vine at the foot of Mount Buzhou. The seven gourds had not yet transformed, but the news of Hongjun's sermon was poured into the leaves. I was worrying about how to get to the front row to attend the lecture, when the rusty clock in the sea of consciousness suddenly pulled me upstream on the long river of time - the light of the sword and the shadow of the ax filled my eyes with white light, and a voice buzzed on the wall of the clock: "Don't open your eyes."
