All beings live in the eyes of others, and if no one pays attention, that person does not seem to be alive.

In that case, it's like a clown on stage.

In that case, let's go and attract attention.

In that case, then winning a full house, whether it is positive or bad, is proof of being alive.

Lin Ming's coffin stood on the ice field, and in the environment of the extreme north, he could not judge how long he had waited from the direction of the sun, moon and stars in the sky, and he could not indirectly convert the time by counting his heartbeats and other methods attached to the body of the blood clan.

But he knew that he would wait for the person he was waiting for after a very cliché time, either three days and three nights or one day and one night.

Because all this has been arranged, it seems to be written in black and white on the script.

The story has come to the end, with the director's arrangement and the tightening of the scene, the two lines of division are about to finish the last stroke of the script in the way of meeting and fighting, but until now Lin Ming has not known whether he is a supporting role or a protagonist in this play.

He didn't know, and he didn't care.

Whether it's the protagonist or the supporting role, the fight is just a plaything written by others, and even the joys and sorrows can't help themselves. If he could, he would rather be a passerby, living in a corner outside the author's gaze.

It's just that he can't get his wish, he can't do anything, he can't do it when he squats in his little corner, he still can't get his wish when he comes out of the world, he can't do it without killing people, and he can't get his wish if he kills countless people.

Since you can't get your wish, you can only be unwilling.

I don't want to let the man who wrote everything get his wish.

A black dot appeared in the sky that Lin Ming was staring at, and although the direction of his spiritual power enhancement did not cover perception, Lin Ming could still guess the identity of the person.

Faced with a killer who has taken an unknown number of lives, a great devil who tries to destroy the world, and a negative collection of almost all the goodness that people in this world can think of, it is naturally the positive characters in the script that should appear at this time, that is, the so-called "heroes".

It's just that whether it is Lin Ming, or the "hero" itself, or the question he is thinking about at this moment is probably not the position of the opposition between good and evil.

"You're here, I thought you'd be turned into an ice sculpture here. Lin Ming said a cold joke, and the coffin beside him slowly disintegrated, reorganized, and finally turned into a blood-colored cloak and hugged his shoulder.

"Roar!"

In response to Lin Ming's still polite greeting, there was a sword aura that roared like an angry dragon.

"Come on, come on, rush here!" Facing the sword qi Lin Ming, he pointed to his heart arrogantly, "The start button of the fireworks party is here!"

The angry dragon dissipated into the air, and the black shadow in the distance fell on a piece of ice floe in front of Lin Ming, changing his color by the way.

The white flame rises.

"That's right...... That's like a positive character. Lin Ming clapped his hands and laughed.

"Why?" Under the white flame's envelope, no one could see Mo Ye's face clearly.

"Why?" Lin Ming repeated Mo Ye's words, and even his tone was repeated.

"Blowing up this world is not good for you at all, why are you doing this?"

"It's not good for you to save this world at all, why are you doing this?" Lin Ming asked rhetorically, and before Mo Xie could answer, he continued, "Is it because you can't hide other people in the 'Heavenly Realm'?"

Mo Ye did not answer.

No answer is the best answer.

He had no ambitions to save the world, and there were only a few people he wanted to save.

It's just unfortunate that he needs to save the few people and he has to save the whole world.

"Yes, I really can't include anyone else in the 'realm of heaven'. Acknowledging this generously, Mo Ye suddenly smiled, and he smiled very calmly like a flat bearer who had lifted a heavy load from his shoulders.

"It's your style, come on. Lin Ming responded to Mo Ye's smile, he opened his arms, and the blood-colored cloak turned into a scarlet canopy, each wisp of which was the essence of blood he had drawn from the body of the living being.

Its momentum is monstrous, but in the face of such a monstrous momentum, Mo Xie just snapped his fingers.

"Smack!"

Before the first wisp of blood stained the corners of his clothes, the crisp sound came out.

There was a soft knock on a door, and an iron gate was closed.

The blood red disappeared from the world, and at the same time, there were two figures that were still in the present world a moment ago.

……

The omen of death became more and more intense, and the cold wind that hit him in the sense of smell of the dust monk was already full of piercing and freezing his lungs.

But he still has to move forward.

Not giving up his back to the direction of the killer was a truth he had known for a long time.

Heading north, the ground under his feet changed from yellow to snow white, then from snow white to blue, from solid to liquid.

Wading through the water, crossing the sea, the murderous machine in the wind spurred him on, he trembled for it, and because of this trembling, he produced extra heat in his body.

As long as there is this heat, the omen of death will not come to him.

As long as the heat is generated, he can overcome death.

This is his technique of nirvana: to march to the place of mortality, until the fate of death is overcome, and there must be no escape, otherwise the success will be ruined.

What a trick this is, but in today's era of the end of the Dharma, he was called the First Buddha thirty years ago when he deduced the technique of Nirvana.

However, the years are a pig-killing knife, the ups and downs of the world, and the warmth and coldness of people are the blood grooves on the pig-killing knife.

Killing a pig is only between one or two knives, and killing a person is far easier than killing a pig.

It's just that......

How many knives did the first Buddha of the past have to take to turn into today's wine and meat monk?

How much yellow soup does it take to pour into the sandalwood mouth stuffed with Jinglun to make it smell?

Those who know are now gone, and those who do not know will never have the opportunity to know.

Just as there is no second person in this world who knows the art of nirvana.

The dust monk stepped on the ice field, a monk's robe hunting, and he leaned forward to maintain his pace, like dead wood catching the wind.

"Here it is. He found two pairs of deep footprints in the snow, and a single glance made him unable to move his steps.