The vast mountains and forests, deep and dark. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 infoThe tiger roars and the ape cries, and the long snake runs. A young man walks alone, with the moon and the stars, and the only thing that can talk to him is the ruthless goshawk. Maybe a year, maybe ten years, the young man has become middle-aged, and he is still walking, for unknown goals, relying on unknown beliefs.

Lively bazaar, indifferent, noisy. The traffic is busy, and the lights are bright. The lonely young man is still walking alone, his body is clumsy, his mind is withered, and he is disgusted and expelled by people and even dogs. Maybe another year, maybe another ten years, the middle-aged man has become an old man, he is still walking, maybe he has forgotten his goal, and the poor faith has long been swallowed up by the long road.

Then one day, the old man saved a baby. The already difficult road added to the burden, but it seemed easier and more enjoyable for him. He had a life, not a burden, in his arms. At first, he walked with the child in his arms; Later, it was held; Then he walked in front, and the child chased behind; Now, his steps are slower, his steps are smaller, and the child has grown up. The girl would often walk in front of him, so the burden on his body gradually fell on the girl's shoulders, and he gradually needed someone to help him.

Accustomed to seeing the world and the hot and cold world, the ambition of his youth has long since disappeared. But no matter what, there is still a way to go. It was an austerity that was accomplished with life and time, and his life's pursuit was all contained in it. Bearing the ancient practice method, the practice is completely different from that of ordinary monks. According to the current division of the Dan Path, he had already realized the Yuanying realm, but for some reason, the mana he had cultivated and the condensed divine sense could not be used at all. It's like a rich man who has thousands of family wealth but can't use it.

According to common sense, when the primordial infant appears, the old self is broken, and the new self is born, the supernatural mana will naturally appear, and the use of spells is as natural as the use of hands and feet. But for him, nothing can be extrapolated by common sense.

Every practitioner's understanding of practice is different. Whose goal is correct is a false proposition, and it cannot even be said to be a proposition. Perhaps reason is also the right way, but who can tell? At most, the rules of the cultivation world define the scope of what the cultivation seeks in the form of respect for the world, and the various sects and schools are already attacking each other. But in any case, he is special because his path is a dead end.

Cultivation can be done without seeking supernatural powers, but it must not be said that there are no supernatural powers, otherwise he is not qualified to express his opinion at all. An ordinary cultivator can make him speechless forever, let alone rely on the subtlety of the Dao to judge winning or losing. Even if there is mystery, how can he make people believe in empty words? So he went on for many years, never thinking of stopping.

On the road that stretches infinitely, he sees national hatred, family hatred, and changes like heaven and earth. At first, he was in the wilderness, and he could only follow the path of beasts and worms. Later, he set foot in Hongchen, and walked mostly bluestone roads and dirt roads. Then there was the oil road, and then there was the cement road......

His realm is getting higher and higher, and his mana is getting deeper and deeper. Finally, one day, when he pulled the three strings to make money for the child's meal, he inadvertently used a spell. It was only then that he understood the root of the problem. Magical powers should not be used lightly, nor should they be dispensed with. Now that he is old and ambitious, why should he use his supernatural powers again? What's more, his supernatural power and mana are no longer under the elders of various sects, let alone fighting with others. Although the way of immortality is ethereal, there is a thought after all. As for the road under your feet, once you set foot on it, you can't turn back......

Everything in front of me is just an illusion, I said to myself. But these are not pure illusions, just like this world, nothing is black and white.

The experiences of my predecessors were mixed with my memories, and I felt that my brain was running out of capacity to carry so much information. However, there is nothing I can do about it, my body is not mine, my soul is not mine, I can only passively accept all this. Over and over again, I watched the stories that didn't care about joy and sorrow, my stories and the stories of my predecessors.

When he came to his senses, he was physically and mentally exhausted. It's not the end, it's the beginning. Without warning, the story of a third person interjected.

The protagonist of the story is the one who kills Matt, the white-haired one. I wasn't interested in his story, but I still had to watch patiently. The poor must have something to hate, and conversely, the hateful must have something to hate. I shouldn't judge this hateful and pitiful killer, I don't care about his world.

It's nothing more than being spoiled at home, too selfish and too casual. After going to school, I not only don't study hard but also affect the teacher's teaching, and then I take pleasure in bullying weak classmates......

This kind of story feels disgusting when you think about it, you always have to take care of your own life, and others don't owe anything, what's the point of blaming teachers and classmates. Some predestined things can probably be described by fate. The killers have united, and they have no scruples about bullying their weak classmates, and it is not interesting to stay in school, so they drop out of school one after another and wander the streets......

Such a seemingly colorful life is the real monotony, and their life can probably be seen at a glance. From a small fight to extortion, its end is predictable. In fact, their current situation is even more miserable than that of prison, and if they could, they would rather go to prison.

Man's fear is wonderful. What is afraid is often not the helplessness and cruelty of reality, but the unpredictable unknown. It doesn't matter if it's prison, criticism and education, or restricting free labor reform. Because it's all under the sun, even if there's a dark side.

They encounter something they can never understand, and even if they don't suffer any harm, that fear grows uncontrollably.

The deserted streets, the dim street lamps, the bleak autumn wind, the whitening grass, trees, bricks and stones, two ragged pedestrians are walking in a hurry. An old man and a young man, a man and a woman, they were in a hurry, but their steps were not fast. It seems that you can never get out of the street, and it seems that the road stretches infinitely. The picture changes in a strange way, and it all shrouds in a chilling dead silence.

All the killers saw was such a scene, abrupt and terrifying. And everything they did was in vain, almost ridiculously fury. There is no escape, no matter where you flee, nothing changes the scene in front of you; If you can't hit it, even if you want to attack, there's no way, you can see it but you can't touch it. They couldn't even get their cries out, let alone call others, maybe they had been swallowed up by dead silence as soon as they finished speaking.

The road can extend to the hearts of others, and people can go to the souls of others. There is no need to do anything else, because everything people do is punish themselves.

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