If destiny were a tree with intricate roots, countless possibilities would create countless worlds.
The lost Atlantis, its subjects emerged from the deep sea and went to the world from the mist.
The opening of the Möbius strip is the ever-bright light for the dead to find their way, and it is also the cry of the undead.
The counterclockwise clock that collapses the world uses countless despair to create miracles, hoping for the fire of inheritance.
The branches of fate are spreading, and endless shackles wrap around the lonely soul. That is the beginning of fate and the embers of death.
"Kill me, destroy me, reshape me, what is real? What is false?" The young man sitting by the window frowned and whispered.
The companion standing not far away rolled his eyes: "Crazy."
Motto: Don't give up hope even if you're at the end of the road
"Martial Arts" Xue Qing Feichen 1