Lan Shiyi was a descendant of the Gusu Lan clan. When he was young, he was the most handsome among the clan. Everywhere he walked in his white clothes, the pine trees and snow on the porch seemed to lower their eyebrows for him. There were so many admirers in the immortal sect that he called himself Lord of the Moon, and people gave him a poem: "Carrying the wind under his sleeves, he passed through thousands of peaks, and the shadow of the sword on his waist was thick with frost. I didn't wait for the immortal to call me tonight, but I went to the clouds to follow the moon." His fame spread far and wide, and everyone knew that he was a guest in the moon who came out of nowhere in the depths of the clouds.
Only he himself knows that there is a ghost from the outside world hidden in this body. In his previous life, he was an ordinary woman, and his three views have long been engraved in his bones. He is used to seeing the order of ethics in the world, and feels that everything in this fairy sect is upside down and absurd. Those eyes with excessive admiration that fell on him always made a physiological astringency rise in his throat - he had seen his father bring his concubine back to the house without any regard for the dignity of the family; he had seen his mother leaning on the soft couch, carelessly playing with the tea cup with her fingertips, and her cold words were like quenching cold needles: "A man is just a plaything for a while, and he cannot have children, so he will be abandoned sooner or later."
The forehead wiping hand passed down from generation to generation by the Lan family to symbolize "self-restraint" has long become a piece of dusty waste paper in this deep house on the side branch. The family motto that has lasted for thousands of years has been riddled with holes by the filth hidden in the shadows of unknown places.
He looked at this world where immorality was regarded as romance and corruption was ordinary, as if he were looking at an ancient painting stained by ink, with every stroke revealing an indescribable weirdness.
When the sword light finally rose, there was no hesitation. First kill the person who indulges in male sex and is in vain to be a father, and then behead the person who is cold and bone-piercing and is in vain to be a mother. The sword blade sweeps across, and the entire side courtyard is soaked in blood. His white clothes were dyed red, and his forehead was stained with blood beads, but he still looked as elegant as the moon.
The moment the sword fell, he heard the wind blowing through the pine forest somewhere in the depths of the cloud, as if it was answering a question for him: Why repay kindness with kindness for evil. He had cleaned up this rotten world with his own hands, and was on his way back to the moon.
Conception:.