An abstract work.
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Thirteen hundred years ago, on the day Bai Yi turned seventeen, his family was surrounded by traitors, and no one in his family of twenty-three survived.
That night, the fire was blazing into the sky, and the sound of the roof collapsing could not be heard. He stood in front of the door in white clothes, holding a long sword, facing a dozen black-robed masters alone.
The plaque above his head was swallowed up by the flames, and the words were the ancestral motto of the family that had lasted for hundreds of years.
The mirror hangs high.
The edge of the sword was cold, and the white man was calm and concentrated. He quickly dodged behind a person with the force of breaking bamboo. Just as he was about to make a move, the plaque on his head suddenly fell down.
Then he was smashed to death.
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If you smash it to death, you will smash it to death. If you are unlucky, there is nothing you can do about it. Later, Bai Yi became a ghost and dealt with those people one by one.
But he didn't expect that when he met the plaque again, it would transform into a street girl.
How dare you fucking transform?
Bai Yi endured it and rolled up his sleeves: "No, I have to fight her today..."
Liu Chuchu grabbed him: "Didn't you steal people's underwear before? You can't just put up your pants and then turn your back on others, right?"
Zhong Yi: "What does lifting your pants have to do with whether you recognize someone or not?"
Liu Chuchu: "If someone always likes to pin their head to the waistband of their pants, then it is very likely that their brain will be pinched when zipping."
Baiyi:?
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Alternative unlimited flow, if you find it strange, you might as well take another look.
Intention: Life is so painful, death is so sad.
