At dawn, the door of the building suddenly opened, and a man in black clothes and a white horse rushed out.
The bright yellow gown upstairs was blown away by the strong wind, and the man stood there like an ice sculpture. The cold air of the night and the fog of the morning seemed to have blended together, condensing on his angular eyebrows: "The chaos of the world can finally be free and easy. Isn't it lucky for you and me?"
Lou Huan looked back at Duyang City as if he had a tacit understanding. His messy long hair was flying in the air, and he looked like a man of the times, but there was no worldly politeness between his eyebrows.
As the sun gradually rose, the man suddenly stretched out a slender white hand, with a cloud of black smoke lingering in his palm. He muttered two mantras silently, and the black mist swirled around his fingertips. In an instant, he disappeared where he was, as if he had never appeared.