At the top of Kunlun, he pointed his sword between his eyebrows: "You lost." He smiled: "It was the same ten years ago. It seems that God has destined me, Murong..." Before he finished speaking, a mouthful of blood spurted out, and the man's snow-white clothes were stained with a dazzling color. The man's expression did not change. He raised his head and laughed: "Well done, well lost." It was unclear whether he was laughing or crying: "If I had ignored you back then, you..." Tears fell on the ground, and the man thought of the young man with bright clothes and angry horse, whose first glimpse he had seen, and his unparalleled handsome face. "From now on, there will never be you Murong again." The man said coldly: "There will be no more Murong Wushuang!" That long roar resounded throughout the world. He fell to the ground and heard his voice in a daze: "Forget me, you will live a happy life." In the blur, only a white shadow was seen walking away decisively. He closed his eyes and smiled bitterly, how could he forget.