Carrying a Lantern to Kill the Heavenly Gate

On the street corner of Baigujing, a one-armed old blacksmith was silently forging iron in the wind and snow. The flying sword of Taishang Wangqing Pavilion sounded silently in the deep void of Changye Road. The ancient bronze mask of Shibulou sneered ferociously in the blood rain. Shen Ning was born without soul, destiny, and cause and effect. He just wanted to be a steady night lantern bearer until he carried out his own dead body on a snowy night. "Chen Ning, since you have died in Changye Road, what kind of monster are you standing here holding a lantern now?"