The wooden bell rings, and the nameless dust that has shaken for thousands of years becomes an arrow, piercing through the evil ghosts in the world.
Even though they have lost their names in the passage of time, the bytes passed down to this day are still proof of their existence.
Let the evil ghost stir up trouble, don't forget, your uncle is still your uncle
I have always cried when I felt sorry for you, but today I don't have a king who will cry for you.
Time has forgotten your name, I will try to cry for you.
Some stories about anonymous Tang poems slaying demons and suppressing storms in modern times
The update is up to chance, the setting is up to chance, the ending is up to chance, and the story development is up to chance. Except for ensuring that the pit is completed, everything else is up to me. I am here to beg for help...