Library

Mountains have their own way, water has their own way, trees have their own way... The way lies in heaven and in man... The old ghost in red was obsessed with swordsmanship all his life, until the purple lightning he was proud of broke... The sword screamed in an instant, that was the end of the sword, his end, and the end of his way... At that moment, he attained the way... In the mountains and fields, in the wine shops, listen to the tourists from outside that day, laughing wildly and chanting: At the Tuoshui Bridge in Xianxi, the plum blossoms dancing in the snow are always amazing. The fragrance of wine in Jianlu brings flying guests, but there is no ghost cry in Longyuan. Red clothes cannot cover the gray hair and old age, and the purple lightning will eventually be defeated by the dead wood. It should be the place where Guiyuan died, where the gulls and herons cling to the mud on the sandbank. (A growth-oriented cultivation story, the pace is a little slow in the beginning, thank you for your support!)