The coercion is getting bigger and bigger, and two words suddenly pop up in Mo Liunian's mind: Tianwei.

That's right, it's Tianwei, Tianwei can't be offended, this coercion is Tianwei, but this Tianwei has been weakened, and the real Tianwei is not half an immortal Yao that they can approach at all.

Mo Liunian has been silently counting in his heart, and when he walked up the highest step, it was indeed ninety-nine.

The height of the totem could not be seen from below, but when I walked in front of me, I found that although the totem was broken, it was also three feet high.

Mo Liu stroked the totem young, and inexplicably wanted to cry, she blinked, trying not to let the tears fall.

Here, it seems that many things have become unimportant, not even herself, here, she is just a speck of dust, and she has finally found a place to perch.

Mo Liunian sat down leaning on the totem and slowly closed her eyes, the coercion here did not make her feel very uncomfortable, she just felt very sleepy and wanted to sleep well.

At this moment, she suddenly heard the voice of the little half-fairy, and she heard the little half-fairy calling her name.

Mo Liunian was overjoyed in his heart, and when he opened his eyes, he immediately wanted to look for it, but as soon as he stood up, he reacted, how could the little half-immortal appear here.

But the transmission note had been lost a long time ago, how could she hear the voice of the little half-immortal.

Just when Mo Liunian thought he was hallucinating, the voice of the little half-immortal sounded very clearly again, and the little half-immortal said, "Mo Liunian, where are you?"

Mo Liunian looked around, all around was a vast expanse, and he could still see the scenery below, but I don't know when the fog rose, and there was a figure of a small half-fairy in the misty smoke.

But Xiao Banxian's voice still came, "Xiao Mo, where are you, tell me quickly." ”

Mo Liunian subconsciously said: "I am in the ancient realm. ”

As soon as the words came out, Mo Liunian was stunned, did it turn out that this was an ancient realm?

The little half-immortal asked, "What ancient realm, tell me about your situation there." ”

Mo Liunian roughly told Xiao Banxian about the situation here, and Xiao Banxian was silent for a long time after hearing this.

The voice of the little half-immortal disappeared, Mo Liunian was in a trance, she almost thought that all this was just her own illusion, and the voice of the little half-immortal finally came, "Little Mo, I finally understand why they want to mix the Yuan Beads." ”

This was said without a clue, but Mo Liunian began to believe that it was really the little half-immortal who was talking, and Mo Liunian asked, "Why?"

"Because the Mixed Yuan Bead can connect the two worlds, Xiao Mo, I can talk to you because of the Mixed Yuan Bead. ”

Mo Liunian was surprised: "Mixed Yuan Zhu?"

Xiao Banxian said: "It's too late to explain too much to you now, Xiao Mo, hold Yuan Shouyi, go to the void, keep quiet, condense Yuan Shen, and enter the air pocket." ”

Although Mo Liunian knows how to resist fire, he has never formally learned these Xuanmen mental methods, and when he heard Xiao Banxian say this, although he understood the meaning, he didn't know what to do at all.

The little half-immortal said: "You just need to relax yourself as much as possible and follow your instincts, just like you did when you broke the infinite enchantment." ”

Mo Liunian said: "Do you want me to open the gate of the ancient realm again and bring you in?"

The little half-immortal said in a deep voice: "Not bad. ”

Mo Liunian didn't ask any more, according to what Xiao Banxian said, he was calm, but it was easier said than done, Mo Liunian never knew the point, Xiao Banxian patiently explained on the side, Mo Liunian closed his eyes, listening to Xiao Banxian's voice, as if he was by his side, that feeling made her feel at ease.

When the time comes in a trance, I will always think of all the memories, familiar people, and fragmented thoughts one by one, occupying all the things that have stayed in my mind, and often, in the inadvertent flow of thoughts, the layered conjectures, such as the time of flowing water, the withering of falling flowers, have long been gone. Is this also the palpitations that have passed through the years, singing all our joys and sorrows in the Qing Que of a lifetime.

There is no you on the other side, there is no self on this shore, the prosperity is gone, and it has been a strange way. On the blue boat, who is playing a song of parting with hatred? The glass is gone, all the past is like a cloud of smoke, and occasionally a smoke and rain floats. In the gallop of life, looking back at the twilight, the fairy tale has ended, so everything whether it is bitter pain or happy happiness will suddenly turn into a warm current, warm the heart that has been tired in the years, and soothe the soul that has been injured.

The time of fine water is always unforgettable, and the frozen snow-capped mountains, like quiet memories, think that they are standing at the end of dusk. You can tell all the nights, thinking that you have put down all the years. You can see that the wind is light, and the lost sky is always full of that trace. The quiet and beautiful sorrow is the trace of the fallen flowers. is still a visitor in the passing year, it seems that everything is just waiting for the flowers to bloom. and hurried by.

Thoughts will always wander in the picture of memory, dust and smoke, how many past things are like smoke, such as fog, when I look back, that familiar figure, but can no longer really fall into my eyes, the sweetness and happiness of the past, like a pinch of light sand, quietly passed away between the fingers.

The years are not old, the thoughts are not young, and the heart is still year after year; Time is secretly changing, the fate is unpredictable, and the memory is still full of top-notch; Shaohua smoke and clouds, fate comes and goes, it is you and me and him. In this scroll of time, we chase the rain wings of longing, the love of the passing years, or joy or idle sighs; in this paper, pen and ink, our thoughts are flying, the end of the world is boundless, and the cape is endless.

The four seasons go back and forth, the flow of the year is not stopped, the west wind leaves fall and sigh, and the rain and autumn are cold. sighed for the passing years, "but only a finger, when will the west wind come, and it will not be said, and the passing year will be secretly changed." "We walk in the passing years, and in an instant the childish face turns gray hair, and the flowers fall into the flowers, and only by cherishing can we not miss the best time. Cherish life, cherish friendship, cherish time, cherish the present.

There are a few sentiments in dreams, we will all meet in dreams after all, and we will eventually write in our dreams about all the faint memories of time, all the shallow beauty of the years. Several degrees of smoke and rain are thick, so that the beauty of all the smoke and rain edifies our hearts, so that the soul has been immersed in all the beauty, dancing with the smoke and rain, and drinking with the haze.

Memory is a flowing landscape, we sit on the boat of time, watching the scenery pass by in a flash. The river that I have walked through cannot be turned back, and in my ignorance, the years have passed. For this world, or for a certain person, a certain episode, should we love a little more, or hate a little more?

Play a song and never forget it, count the years. Pick up those years slowly and write in memory with an affectionate pen. In the depths of the red dust, you are still my reluctant attachment. Let this tenderness draw the ground for me, let the years pass. Hold on to a wisp of thought, a persistence. Waiting for you.

Love is also sad, love is also confused, thinking that the dusty memories will be erased with time, but they are no match for the dark changes of the years. Every moment is a reflection of one's true self in the story. When the desolation reaches the heart, if you want to withdraw, you are also at a loss, in exchange for things and people. In the drunken dream, the flowers bloom and thank you, which has nothing to do with the wind and moon, just to live up to the red dust. Outside the world, who will put a pure love into a smile? Affection is indifferent, persistent, trying to go away, but it haunts the bottom of my heart silently, and disappears in silence in the blink of an eye.

With a new heart, keep the time. The past years, the love in my heart, in the light smile and sigh, has become light. We only need to have a peaceful heart, let the flowers bloom and the leaves fall in a circular interpretation, and carry a cloud and water Zen heart, and let time fly into the myth of immortality.

I don't know, when the grass grows and the warbler flies in the spring or autumn, have they ever met? Youth tramples on the young, the years are banished by the passing years, remembering the vague smile in the memory, the ground, the heart aches faintly.

Time flies, covering the past, the old dreams left by youth at that time have disturbed the red dust and rain, put down a little red leaves to paint the autumn, sing the years like this, life like a dream of the annual rings, in the story of the old to interpret a scene of joys and sorrows, how many memories have been extinguished, how much time is not in the cold.

Fireworks life, a dream of red dust. Don't sigh that time is in a hurry, in the blink of an eye, the geometry of life, the years have changed, after the prosperity, there is still a piece of dust scattered all over the place, unchanged for thousands of years. The wind blows and falls countless flowers, and the petals touched by the hand are fragrant and soft, like fireworks, and the beauty of the moment is frozen into eternity.

After the passing years, love and hate, love and hatred, everything has been in the sea, only the memory blooms into the life of the flowers, the wind flies the four seasons, no matter how the time changes, no matter how the years turn, it only cares about its own shallowness.

The world is a big dream, the world is cool several times, three hundred years of love and hatred whistling by, from beginning to end, like a snap of the fingers, the red face and temples have become dry bones, and the sword gall and the heart have turned into ashes. Sixty-three years of Sansheng Stone fell to Tuoke, sixty-three years of meditation, only to know that there was no word on the original Sansheng Stone. Isn't it ridiculous that the so-called fate determines how many lives there are? In this world, there is only impermanence.

Silent to the corner of the corner, the mood is bathed in the wet, the delicate figure, hiding a love, lingering in the dream that does not want to wake up, the streamer that can't be held, a few degrees of spring and autumn, fireworks several times reincarnation, gradually passing away between the hourglass, the tip of the heart surging vicissitudes, and the slightest throbbing of obsession.

Prosperous three thousand, Qianmo red dust. A shallow relationship, a deep love. A lifetime of care. I am lonely. The thoughts of reincarnation awaken the imprint of memory. The scattered joys and sorrows, only a wry smile remains, but they will eventually become a cloud of smoke, gradually dissipating in memory, and after all, it is just a dream.

The man closed the door and walked towards her, his face in the shadows becoming clearer. The face that sank into the deepest part of his memory appeared little by little, and the dim light slid away from his face like water. It's not an illusion, it's not an illusion, it's a real person, the forehead, the eyebrows, the eyes, the nose, the lips, the eyes, the breath, the posture, all are alive.

I have heard the whispers of flowers, the memory of the wind, what else, what else is needed, wear it densely with heart, those with you, in the passing years, bright as silk, like a cinnabar mark, are hidden into ordinary days, can not be lifted, can not be alienated.

Suddenly like a dream, thoughts flying. In an instant, looking back on the years of events, at first, between the low eyebrows and a shallow smile, I fell into your arms like an accident.

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