The Legend of Mo Chen: Ink Stains the Blue Sky

There is a dry Mo River in Cangyuan Continent, and there is a forest of ruined steles by the river that no one cares about. Mo Chen works as a guard there and gets three spiritual stones every month. He has no spiritual roots and all sects do not want him. He didn't think about where he was going. Every day he weeds and drives away animals, and then squats in front of the stone tablet and traces the runes that no one can understand with his fingers. No one asked him to do it. He didn't know why he did this. Just the hands can move. Seven years passed like this. He never missed writing one of those runes. Then one day, in a desperate situation, he burst out with a power that did not belong to his realm. Very ancient. Very strange. He didn't remember anything after using it. But he vaguely felt that at that moment, the ground beneath his feet moved. Not an earthquake. I recognized him. Cangyuan Continent has no real history. The changes of dynasties and the rise and fall of eras are just the same thing happening over and over again. The immortal cultivators thought they were moving forward, but in fact they were just spinning around in circles. Anyone who reaches the highest point will eventually encounter the same trace. No one knew what it was, no one could read it. That's a letter. The person who writes the letter and the person who receives the letter are the same. That man is now squatting in the forest of broken monuments. He is seventeen years old, has no spiritual roots, and is ignored by the whole world. The words he traces every day are carved by himself. He built the world and then threw himself in, giving nothing, starting at the bottom. He forgot about it. He thought he was just useless. When he remembers that day, he will not thank himself for making this decision. He will replace him.