A Line of Qingcheng

The wind and rain are dim, and the thunder is roaring. In this battle, Qiu Xiaoyun's meridians were severed and his liver and intestines were destroyed. Every rise and fall of the chest is accompanied by true fire burning the heart. He used up his last bit of will, turned around tremblingly, and knelt heavily. "Master, Master,... Your nurturing grace, disciple... Can only be seen in the next life..." Before he finished speaking, a golden light broke through the clouds and broke into the dawn, reflecting on him. Along with the golden light, was a huge seven-color palm print, cold and ruthless. 'Boom'! Qiu Xiaoyun's broken body was like a broken string, mixed with blood and drawing a silent arc in the rain. There was no trace of pain in his blank pupils, only the heart-rending reflection of his senior brother and senior sister. The heaven and earth hang upside down and are bundled in a high pavilion. Qiu Xiaoyun felt that he was constantly falling into nothingness, but the sky in his eyes was the familiar Eighteen Peaks of Qingcheng, so majestic and unreachable. However, everything seems to have nothing to do with him anymore. "Am I... Going to die?" Darkness erodes, leaving only a trace of white dots in the distant sky. 'Bah! ! ! ' A pair of amber delicate hands came out of nowhere and grabbed the sinking Xiaoyun tightly. "Huh, I finally caught up." The woman breathed a sigh of relief, picked up Xiaoyun, and held her in her soft and fragrant arms. A feeling of warmth suddenly rose up. "Who... Are you?" Qiu Xiaoyun felt sleepy coming over him and asked calmly. The woman paused, pushed a transparent object on the tip of her nose, and spoke slowly. "Just call me Nuwa!"