In the 367th year of the prehistoric calendar, the spirit of heaven and earth declined.
The four images burned up the divine body and turned into four-color light pillars that penetrated the four poles of the world. The scales of the blue dragon peeled off like snow, the bones of the white tiger were cracked, the tail feathers of the red bird were burned to ashes, and the basalt carapace sank into the Northern Underworld - they used their own death to give the common people three thousand years of breathing space.
At the top of Kunlun, Lu Wu tore open his chest and gouged out half of his godhead.
The golden divinity beat in his palm, like a dying sun. He cast it into a small boat to hold the true spirit of the fish that was about to dissipate.
"Wait for me," he said.
The fish didn't respond. His figure had faded into mist, with only a little blue light remaining on his fingertips.
He used that light to create a trace of tide around Lu Wu's wrist - like a lock and an oath.
Ten thousand years later, this tide mark will be faintly hot on his wrist.
At that time he would not be able to remember who he had been waiting for.
But at the Mirage Band in Beijing, a blind luthier's fingertips swept across the strings, and he suddenly felt that he had heard this song "Mountain Moon" thousands of times.
Lightning protection: two male protagonists, with children, the protagonist content accounts for 50%, and the other three pairs of sub-CPs, if you don't like it, don't enter~
Intention: Believe in the power of persistence, there is nothing we can't do.
