After Bai Ningbing Was Buried in the Ice Prison

After the chaos in the five realms, I thought I had retired from all chessboards. Fang Yuan's shadow, Bai Xiang's bloodline, the death date of Beiming Bing's body, and the old wounds left by the flow of yin and yang are all like corpses sealed under the ice. As long as the snow is thick enough, they can be temporarily treated as if they never existed. Until the ice prison mirror sea at the end of the North Plains cracked, and a person exactly like me walked out of it. He wore the face of my youth, holding the sharpest and stupidest killing intent I had ever had, and told me in front of the survivors of the snow field: the real Bai Ningbing had died in Qingmao Mountain long ago, and what survived later was just a container that was repeatedly rewritten by God, the strong, and old debts. The surviving family of the Snowfield returned with his ancestral blood, the ruins of Baixiang recognized his name, the remaining soul in the mirror forced me to hand over my body, and the old enemy delivered an unsigned letter through the wind and snow. Everyone wants to decide for me which Bai Ningbing is more real and which period of life is more worthy of staying. That night I realized that if I wanted to complete my story, I couldn't ask God for recognition, I couldn't wait for comments from my old friends, and I couldn't explain it to the past. I must personally kill the Bai Ningbing who is more like Bai Ningbing, and then drag out all the people who want to live in my name out of the snow.