Chitianxu

In the dark night, cold fingers opened the young boy's chest, and a purple-gold light flashed, and his spiritual roots were lost. Becoming an immortal or a demon, Chu Han struggled in this whirlpool of suffering. People often say that life is like a play. Could it be that this damn fate really controls him? The beauty is no more than the end of April, and the thousands of flowers are no more than two seasons of spring. Looking at the foothills of the Northern Tianshan Mountains, my heart is burning and I step on the ruins of the sky. This is just a story on the ruins, nothing more.