The aging monk lay on her jade bamboo step to rest, breathing steadily, and a few wisps of breeze drifted in, pulling her into dreams.
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"A Deng, I just saw a person," the blazing fire light distorted all the figures on the ground, and the sharp screams and shouts from all around rushed into Zhang Deng's head.
She looked at the man in the corner holding a pitch-black crossbow. The man was leaning against the wall and silently adjusting the bowstring. He said, "You go first. I have to kill him before I leave."
Intention: run more, see more, and live steadily until one hundred and thirteen