Hello everyone, with your support all the way, this book will be on the shelves at around 12 noon today.

Well, by the way, let's talk about this book, the lazy bird writes novels until now, and he is really an old bird, with little accumulation in his belly, but his mouth is getting sharper and sharper, and his skin is getting thicker and thicker.

The old bird was originally written about Xianxia, when he was still young, and he didn't know what Xianxia was, so he looked at the ethereal, mortal, immortal, etc., Dong Shi imitated the wind, smiled and generous, looked back today, and couldn't bear to witness.

Over the years, I have been like a silly boar, relying on a whim, and I have written a lot of messy genres, but I dare not touch Xianxia again.

Because as I get older, the more I have a scruffy beard, and the more I am polished as smooth as a boiled egg in society, the more I dare not, and I don't want to touch the dreams of my youth.

I feel that I am not worthy, and I am afraid that I will be tarnished by the cheesy, greasy and middle-aged appearance of this red dust.

But occasionally in the dead of night, waking up alone, waking up like a dream, this body floats, I don't know what year, there is no daily trivial entanglement, but I will think of a little.

What is Xianxia?

I'm dull, I'm stupid, I'm clumsy, I'm clumsy.

Actually, I don't know.

I don't deserve definition.

Xianxia is to me, like the desert of Mofa, it is over there, I am at this end.

It's like the young me, and the pot-bellied me, one on that side and the other on the other.

Unfortunately, I can't remember how I was when I was younger.

I feel like I'm getting old.

People are middle-aged.

I sometimes even ignore, I forget, I used to be young.

Sometimes I read that the sword is not properly matched, the rivers and lakes are when you go out, the thousands of sails are gone, and the sentence that you are still a teenager when you return, is just indifferent.

I'm just an ordinary mortal after all.

But unexpectedly, I was depressed to the extreme, and after recognizing my own state, I had a little bit of brainlight.

I still don't know what a fairy is.

I still can't remember the dreams of my youth.

But it didn't stop me from looking for it.

Start right here and now.

My pen is my eyes, my thoughts, and my direction.

The scenery along the way, there should be all of you.

We'll see you on the road.

See you or leave!