I, Sang Nanming, have met many people and many things in my life, but after that burst of tears a hundred years ago, my eyes seem to have gradually dried up.
It is difficult for dead trees to see spring, and memories are difficult to reappear. All the past in the long river of history have drifted away.
I don't know if I remember my original oath. Can you understand my heart, the sycamore tree in front of the palace? Is these long years a reward or a punishment for me?
Lonely pavilions and palaces, empty vast rivers of stars, I will always be with you, and you will always be with me...
His nails dug deeply into his palms, and the memories that had been sealed a hundred years ago suddenly came flooding back. That night, the sparks in front of the Wutong Hall fell like rain. The young man in white covered my face with blood-stained bronze, and the spell seeped into the bone marrow amidst the severe burning pain of my skin and flesh.
"Guarding the heaven and earth with the body of a goddess, this agreement is made and will never change." His voice was wrapped in the vapor of cold dew and dispersed into the eternal night with the long wind.
That mask covered with patina clearly had the same eyebrows and eyes as mine.
Thousands of years of time suddenly turned back, and I saw my current appearance reflected in his pupils - it was no longer me, but the posture of a goddess wearing a Jiuzhai crown on the mural.
The moment his fingertips touched, the memory sealed in the mask split time and space like a sharp blade. The souls of a hundred thousand soldiers burned into a sea of blue flames behind him, burning the immortal curse and the oath to protect the common people into my spiritual platform at the same time.
The bronze bells on the eaves of the temple moved automatically in the absence of wind. The bells that had not sounded for thousands of years vibrated above the clouds, and the stars began to flow in the opposite direction.
I heard the millions of dead souls sealed in the depths of the galaxy begin to cry. The sound of shattering glazed tiles came from the direction of the temple. The sycamore tree that had been struck by lightning three thousand times finally sprouted new buds at this moment.
Concept: The blend of growth line and revenge line