"Old immortal thing, do you know ......" said Dapeng Shangshen Nan Mingkun took out a bright red banknote, "This thing, why is it so bright red?"

Then, the Dapeng Shangshen Nan Shenkun drank the red juice from his cup with a very strong fishy smell, and continued: "Because ...... This thing...... Be...... Stained with human blood!"

Then, the Dapeng Divine Nan Shenkun twisted the high-quality skin that had been exchanged for millions of liters of human blood, and pretended to roar at the Phoenix Divine Hu Immortal: "And you, but you are replenishing the blood of those slaves who are stupid enough to use human blood for wealth! When did your brain start to degenerate more stupidly than even the lower creatures because of old age!"

"Really?" the phoenix god Hu Immortal suddenly became frightened.

Because, in the vicissitudes of the past 5,000 years, he is constantly awakening.

The child knows that the birds are facing the phoenix, but he doesn't know why the birds are facing the phoenix.

"Nan Ying Kun, I seem to remember ......" Phoenix God Hu Buying said calmly, "Two hundred and forty years ago, I don't know which stupid guy it was, it seems that he was still a four-star god peak at that time, when he encountered me flying across the sea, he was scared like a brain cramp and a short circuit, in order to become a five-star god, I don't know how many things I did all day long that even the gods couldn't stand it." Now, let me guess which stupid guy was in the first place......"

"You ......" Dapeng Shangshen Nan Shenkun instantly seemed to be choked by the throat, unable to speak.

Indeed, the Dapeng Shangshen Nan Shenkun can have the current achievements, which is nothing more than relying on his extreme mind to ascend to the position. However, extreme IQ does not mean how smart you are, it only increases your laughter.

"If it's okay, I'll take my leave!" "The phoenix god Hu Immortal turned around and left.

Dapeng Shangshen Nan Mingkun's skin bag was horizontal: "When you die, you still have a hard mouth!"

At midnight –

This is at the foot of the mountain where the Phoenix Mansion is located, next to a small stream.

Unfortunately, the stream was cut off fifty meters away.

"**!" Lao Jiao came down from the mountain and finally found the phoenix god Hu Immortal.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Jiao.

"No...... It's all right......" said the Phoenix God Hu Immortal, "Alright, you've worked so hard for so long, it's time to go and rest—I'll sit down for a while." ”

"That'll do. Lao Jiao drooped his eyelids and went back.

And the phoenix god Hu is immortal and is still awakening.

Awakening, it can't be good. However, he was able to make the "slave" never cry out "slave" again!

Because—

Awakening is awareness, awakening is awakening!

The years pass without a trace-

Spring goes to autumn, cold comes and summer, ancient and modern are all ordinary! The scenery has not changed, we are not old, but things are not human, after the baptism of the years, our faces are full of vicissitudes of life, full of melancholy! Once, we were simple, we were naïve, we were sharp and angular, we did not understand the so-called human feelings of the world, but the edges and corners were polished by the ruthless years, from then on, we were complicated, we were hypocritical, we were sleek and sophisticated, and we began to understand the world!

Time slipped through our fingers, without a trace, when we have not yet woken up from ignorance, we have slipped away, not for a moment, but left us helpless, at a loss! I regret that time flies so fast that we cannot grasp it, we can only let it shuttle, shuttle through our whole life, and can only let it be destroyed, destroy our youth. Time cannot be touched or perceived, and can only be judged by the traces of time! The condensation of the sea is mixed with how many years have passed; and the confusion of mulberry fields has been filled with many ups and downs.

The years have identified my inaction now, and also confirmed that I have had some glory in the past, but those only glories have also been ruthlessly eliminated by time, and forgotten in some unknown corner of history! The passing years are fleeting, like a flash in the pan, leaving only the causeway of history, only reminiscence! I once thought that time could dilute everything and take everything away, but in fact the years washed away happiness, and there was only pain! I want to grasp the bits and pieces of good memories, put them in my diary, and let myself find some comfort, so as to bring myself motivation, bring confidence, and have the courage to continue to walk my life that is not a life! Look backward, vague, look forward, confused, where to go? Lose yourself, lose your direction, like a kite with a broken string, can only go with the wind, without any goal! The road still has to go, time will still flow, with the rhythmless years to step forward!

The jumping notes, the whirling wooden horse, all of which cannot escape the ravages of time, are frozen on the edge of memory. Good things are always too short, fleeting, and they will never be able to withstand the test of time, and they will never be able to coexist with heaven and earth! There will always be no saying goodbye when we need it most. As the years pass, everything will go away, and it will not stand forever for us!

In a hurry, joys and sorrows are mixed with laughter, mixed with tears, and finally deduced into a little memory. Someday, at some point, I would remember it, but it was all blurred. Although the years have passed, they will not erase the memory; although they have blurred the people and things of the past, they cannot be forgotten, at least they have appeared and stayed in our world! Time has passed, only to reminisce, suddenly looking back, the lost youth will be fixed in the memory, continue to rise and fall in the years, looking for the traces of the years, out of this rolling red dust!

Listen to the passage of time -

I like to sit quietly and meditate like this alone. Or happy, or sad, or reminiscing about certain episodes.

The years whispered softly beside me, and I listened quietly.

Flowers pass through spring, leaving wisps of fragrance. The wind rippled over the water. The snow passes through the winter, giving all kinds of hope. In the smoke and rain, I once walked through the Zhuxuan Garden, walked through the staggered river, walked through the lonely rainy alley, and walked through a period of water-like years. Over the millennium, a moment of laughter, a moment of loneliness, in the passage of years. No matter who it is, the mountain spring in front of you, the breeze, the dawn moon, and the setting sun will become the most beautiful picture in life. Sometimes, the result is not important, the important thing is that all the bits and pieces of ups and downs accumulated along the way in this life are the bitter or sweet past moments left by the bitter or sweet past moments. Youth is a river of seasons, which flows in life in a hurry. The faint grief scattered in the corners evokes the wounded city hidden in the heart. A person will be sad because of thoughts, because of love, and because of poetry. Sadness is ethereal like smoke, like a faint fragrance, knocking on the window late at night. So I fell in love with the windowsill after the lonely dusk, looking at the bleak fireworks, and in a few secluded nights, a line of tears fell in the air.

When the sunset fades away, the curtain of the late night is quietly spreading to the starry sky, the moon slowly climbs up, the silver light pours down, and the place is cold and desolate. When a wisp of moonlight shines on his cheeks through the small window, it is cold and bleak, as if he has found a hook of crescent moon as cold as water. If loneliness has a color, then black has become her only label, perhaps a fateful arrangement. Alone, I walked through the long alley, full of loneliness, holding my hands full of moonlight, where to tell my tears and sorrows. In the vast starry night, the world is long, a lonely wreckage is wandering, my tired body is pinning on an immortal soul, and deep in the immortal soul is buried a wounded heart. The depressed days have run over my thin youth, how extravagant I hope to leave a happy rut, but the years are like water, the light is fleeting, and when I realize it, the youth has been exhausted.

A little sigh, a little lingering, a little lonely, when the twilight is four, standing by the window, always miss a touch of residual sun, desolate and beautiful, "the reflection of the left hand, the right hand is in the youth, hiding in a corner, missing the palm print for a period of time", the years are like water, and the ripples are so clear heart. A spring is cool, tears quietly slip down, stumbling into the heart river, layers of ripples rippling in the distance. Thoughts have long been destroyed by the merciless east wind. Tea is a feeling, a sip of sadness, the days were as bitter as tea. Sad as any sunset is lonely and lonely, walking in the traces of the years, waiting for a falling silence. The smoke shone down, the remnant sun was like blood, and the wind passed away the haggard face and sad tearful eyes. The footprints of youth gradually passed on the silent stone slab.

Those lost years, those laughter and joy disappeared in the morning frost and rain. Through the years, through a period of mist and rain, through a pool of spring water.

Joy is too short, why nostalgia for the early morning time, loneliness is too long, why reminisce about endless sadness. The road of life has a flat and smooth road, and there are also crossings without boats and shores without bridges. The road is long, don't be stumbled and stop the way. Maybe now the dust and fog are entangled, and the thorns are thick, but it will eventually usher in the brightness of the willow bank flowers. If you miss a layer of rippling cold, miss a poetic tenderness, you don't have to be nostalgic or hesitant. There is no endless style in the world, only the mood of immortality. The grass in the pond, the cicadas in the summer trees, those are all traces left by the passing of last year. The moon is full, whether it is the looming appearance of the shape or the sublimation of the rhyme. When the sun sets, is it the harvest of the day, or the contemplation of the night. Why be confused and ask about the unknown fate of the empty valley. A bouquet of flowers can leave the fragrance by your side, a wisp of spring breeze can send you the message of spring, and a bright moon can take away my strong thoughts. Why don't we laugh and watch the clouds roll up, lie down and listen to the trickle, and count the scorching stars.

Through the years, through a dream-like memory. Perhaps the clear soul followed the faint red dust, allowing a stream of hot tears to flow silently along his cheeks. Turn the yellowed title page, write the most beautiful poems, and gently press the dead memories into the past, just for the inseparable love in my heart. I know that it is not tears, it is the rain that has been fighting for the years for a lifetime.

At this time, the phoenix god Hu Immortal suddenly opened his eyes wide-

In front of me, the originally broken stream, like a silver veil under the moonlight, spread out into the distance, that little bit of pink.

The obsidian-like pupils that were dripping suddenly contracted.

- Deceive, deceive......