A lonely mountain hundreds of miles away, there, there is wind and snow.

A group of immortals, standing on the top of the mountain, surrounded by a lonely tomb, with serious expressions.

Suddenly, a thunderclap exploded. The lonely grave squirmed slightly, and a hand, a head, and a figure appeared out of thin air. The figure was emaciated, emaciated and devoid of human appearance. The figure was ethereal, so ethereal that it seemed to have no soul, the figure was lonely, so lonely that he was the only one left in the world, only, only a pair of eyes, bright, bright and only let people know that he was still alive.

"Kill!" I don't know who it is, there was a low groan in the void, and the immortals rose up, pinching the sword trick in their hands, and the fairy sword came out of the body with a burst of cold light.

He looked at the cold light, as if he was deep in thought, stunned. The fairy sword was like a meteor, coming in an instant. But that figure doesn't seem to have woken up yet.

There was a soft 'hiss', a strand of black hair fell, and the light of the fairy sword was reflected in his eyes, and at this moment, he finally woke up.

In an instant, time seemed to stand still, only he, slowly raised his arm, gently, gently pulled out the long knife behind his back, a long knife with a pitch-black body, and he moved......

Black coarse cloth long clothes, black rusty long knife, black long hair, black figure, black soul, at this moment, he is like an ink, heavily portrayed in the crowd, portraying the trajectory that belongs to him, but the price of this trajectory is that touch of red.

"Beast!" came the same voice again, with anger in it. Suddenly, a thunderbolt like a dragon fell from the sky and went straight to the pitch-black figure.

In the face of it, that figure was like a drop in the ocean, so small that it was pitiful. But he picked up his sword and went straight to the thunder. There was a loud bang, and the dazzling light made people unable to see clearly, and in a trance, only a figure was seen falling, and only a long black knife broke and flew into the distance............

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The town should be noisy, but there are few pedestrians on the street, just because of the wind and snow......

The wind blows people's hearts and shakes, like duckweed on a rainy night.

The snow, the floating people's hearts are messy, and they are like lonely leaves in the river.

On that day, I never cared about people's hearts, but I always controlled people's hearts, for fish, for knives, and for dogs.

This snow flies with the wind, pervasive, and its coolness must be experienced by the world. This snow, with white hair, tells of misery, and its pain must be known to the people of the world. This snow is just this snow, which falls helplessly, and falls on whose shoulders.

In the distance, a person came slowly, dressed in coarse cloth black, swaying in the wind. Long hair, light face. He was not more than twenty years old. There is no expression on the face, like a wood carving, like a walking corpse, which makes people pay attention, but they don't care. But the long knife behind him was so sharp and exposed. The three-foot cold knife, although broken, is not blunt, just because there are still blood stains hanging on it, and the blood is like rain, dripping down.

His figure is like ink, and he is as resolute as a knife. Ink knife ......

In the wind and snow, one person and a half knife, slowly moving forward......

"Objectively, please!" Because of the wind and snow, the business of the inn is good, and the shopkeeper patiently greets the passers-by, and the smile on his face is from the heart. It's just that his waist is getting more and more bulging. At this time, he saw a person, a strange person, dressed in rags and black, with a broken knife behind his back. muttered in my heart.

"When have you been playing this set? , when you are an ancient knight? Although I look down on it in my heart, I am a guest after all, and the shopkeeper still welcomes it patiently.

"Objectively, how many people can eat, stay in the hotel?" asked a few words clearly, and the shopkeeper wanted to hurry up and greet those rich uncles.

"Steamed buns, wine. "The ink knife voice is hoarse, hoarse to the point that there is no moisture. After that, he sat in the corner, looking out the window and saying nothing. Looking at the world outside the window, it seems that I have already known it again, and I no longer know this world, this river and lake. "Is this a river or a lake?" Mo Dao asked, but he didn't know who to ask.

"Weird, even the food is so weird, do you use steamed buns to drink?" the shopkeeper muttered in his heart.

Soon, a plate of five steamed buns and a pot of wine were sent to the table of ink knives.

Modao's hands were dirty and bloodstained, but he was already hungry, and he couldn't take care of everything. Gobbling up is no longer enough to describe how he eats at this time. He was also thirsty, so thirsty that he would drink his own blood.

The ink knife could have drunk water, and wine was not to his liking. It's just that he wants to taste, to taste the taste of this world, the taste that has been forgotten.

The people around looked at the ink knife, looking at him so weirdly and pointing, some disgusted, some curious, and some of the women even had ripples in their eyes, because of that smell, they had never seen it. It's just that no one came to talk to him because of his weirdness.

"Uncle, can you give me a steamed bun?" a timid voice interrupted the ink knife. A female doll, six or seven years old, tilted her head, looked at the ink knife in a daze, and opened her eyes wide, her eyes were eager and timid.

"Half a piece, is it okay?" Because he ate it too quickly, there was only half a steamed bun left in Modao's hand. Looking at the girl, Modao tried his best to make his voice sound gentle, and he remembered his sister, a sister who had been killed at the age of six.

"Hmm!" the girl nodded heavily, and the expectation in her eyes was even stronger. As if she was afraid that the ink knife would regret it, the girl stared at the half of the steamed bun.

"Give. The ink knife held out his hand.

The girl snatched half of the steamed bun in the hand of the ink knife, turned around and fled, without thanking her.

"Look, that guy actually gave that girl food. There was a lot of talk.

"yes, he's going to be out of luck. ”

"Why?"

"You've just been here, that girl is wicked. But everyone who has had anything to do with her will all die inexplicably. Because of her, at least ten people have died in this town. ”

"Such an evil sect?"

"Who's to say it isn't. ”

"Then why not?" said the man, making a motion to wipe his neck.

"Shhhhh "She can't touch it. The man's voice was even quieter. "I heard that once a bully passed by here, saw this little girl, and arrested her back to the cottage to be a child daughter-in-law, guess what happened in the end?"

"What's wrong?" said in a curious tone.

"The whole village died overnight! Fifty-eight people in all!!"

"Such an evil sect?"

"Who's to say it isn't. After saying that, the man looked at the ink knife as if he was looking at a dead man.

At this time, the shopkeeper came to the ink knife. "Objectively, you can see ......" the shopkeeper had a smile on his face. He wanted Modao to check out and leave, because he was dressed strangely, and no one wanted to sit next to Moto. The ink knife itself occupies a table, which affects the business very much. On the other hand, it's because of the girl.

Get up, take the money, and don't care about the shopkeeper's almost 'driving people' behavior. In his opinion, people are just a mouthful of food, and who doesn't want to eat more. "Jingle" twice, a few copper coins fell on the table, and the ink knife turned around, ready to meet the wind and snow.

"Stop!" as soon as he broke off, the shopkeeper's face changed. "You're here to make trouble?"