"Hey, young man, would you like to give you a chance to save him again?"
Yan Xiao looked for the direction of the sound and looked down to see a drunk old man.
He was unshaven and his gray hair was messy in the wind.
"Old man, don't make fun of me."
"When have I ever made a joke?" The old Taoist laughed twice, took the gourd from his waist, and poured the wine in the gourd into his mouth:
"Do it again, or ten times, or a hundred times, go back to the past and save Qin Wuyan." Old Taoer stretched out his hand towards Yanxiao:
"It depends on whether you want to do it or not."
Yan Xiao stared blankly at the hand that was as muddy as dry tree bark.
"Hey, don't stay there!" He said, "Give me a message, will you come back?"
Intention: Those who obey people's control are stories, but those who know how to resist can be called human beings