Pushing aside the mottled old days, passers-by come and go on the street, the peach blossoms were blooming yesterday, young and old, no one is the same as they were back then.
At the old place, Demon Lord pushed a cup and said "Long time no see" to the old friend who came alone in front of him. He didn't have the man in Tsing Yi Jian beside him.
Not far away in the Central Plains, a white-haired beauty is dressed in Qingyang, with gentle and cheerful eyebrows. She is like the lonely swordsman in the memory, walking quietly forward in these days as stable as dead water.
In Taixu Temple, Song Yuhan locked himself under the tower, closed his eyes, his inner demons were vague, but there was no longer the hand of the former master of Fa Sect on his shoulders.
The sound of the Bing Xin Lian Qin did not sound. Finally, someone gave up and refused to wait any longer. A hundred thousand miles north and south, the people in the story were drowned in dust.
Thousands of miles above, he opened his eyes and looked at the ups and downs of the prosperous world. The man in purple beside him asked him with a blurred face.
Is this really what you want, you and your world?