Cheng Ying Zhu Xian

The sharp edge trembles in the sky, and the sea of ​​thunder and fire waits to watch. With a sword across the sky, all the worlds were torn apart, and he asked with a smile, who in the world is worthy of fighting? When the butcher's knife chopped off his father's head, seven-year-old Zheng Zimo was tightly covered by his sister Zheng Yutong, and huddled in the pile of corpses in the dry well. Through the gap, she watched helplessly as the corner of her mother's clothes embroidered with Qingluan was turned into ashes bit by bit in the raging fire. Just when despair froze the soul, a purple lightning tore apart the mountain of corpses, and an immortal stood in the sky. His sighs were like dew falling from the sky, each word hitting the boy's dying heart: "Isn't the golden scale just a thing in the pond? It turns into a dragon when it encounters a storm."