The first one, to be honest, I have only read Chapter 100, and I still don't know whether the protagonist is a boy or a girl. The catalog says he is a boy, but there is "her" in the text. But other than that, it is still very interesting. The protagonist is a voodoo player, and there are a lot of voodoo insects. The protagonist is very powerful, but he has a little bit of a knife. The second and third books are also a voodoo player, but I haven't read it yet.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
"Isn't it that Changbai Mountain is too beautiful?" "Is it that you forgot the way home?" "Is it that the sand sea is too cruel?" "Is it that you have forgotten that innocence does not live up to expectations?" "Is it that the stage is too false?" "You have forgotten the colorful sleeves." "Is it that ten years are too long?" "You have forgotten..." "Follow me home." I envy a kind of innocence, called Wu Xie; I envy a kind of indifference, called Zhang Qiling; I envy a kind of bohemianness, called Fatty; I envy a kind of friendship, called the Iron Triangle; I envy a kind of agreement, called the ten-year agreement. Ten years are like a vast ocean in a blink of an eye, but no one knows that there are still flowers hidden in the ocean. Ten years of white sand have buried innocence, and the desert wind has buried innocence. Xie Yu welcomes the wind and dances in the city, singing one song after another. A cup of wine with peach and plum spring breeze, and a light in the rainy night in the rivers and lakes for ten years. Waiting for a thousand years of rain to stop, waiting for someone to come by chance. There was once a decadent writer, the third uncle of the Southern School, who loved to lie to people and deceived him into tears for half his life. There was once an infatuated fool named Rice who fell into Changbai even though he knew it was an illusion. The rest of the group that came to me was named Zhang Qiling.
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