When the leaves also begin to fall, autumn is thick.

There was a mulberry tree in the courtyard, half of its leaves had fallen to the ground, and it was covered like a coat on the yellow earth.

Of course, there is still sunshine in the sky, but the warmth is gone.

He walked naked through the courtyard to the back hall.

Instead of exhausting him, last night's spring supper made him more radiant. And Ling Xiang, she probably won't be able to get out of bed today anyway.

There are maids in the back hall, and looking at his lean body, he can't help but blush.

The soup for his bath had already been served, and the white smoke curled and danced in the air like a thread.

The fragrance of chrysanthemums seems to be more melodious under the steaming heat.

He burrowed into the barrel, and the veins in his body immediately expanded, and a warm current immediately penetrated his shoulders and back, which were prone to tension.

The maids, dressed in obscene clothes, suddenly also submerged under the water, and wiped his lean body with a nearly transparent carcass, and the plump flesh rubbed against him wantonly, and he could touch it with his hand.

Wen Xiang Nuan Yu hugged him, such a day, he never thought about it before, but now he suffers it, but he is also calm.

The maids were grinning and trying to please him, but he gently pushed the three of them away and made a warm soup.

Although there was a little strange on his face, the maids quickly got better, smiled again, and jumped out of the barrel to wipe his body.

His body has never been martial arts, and there is a scar on his right waist, which is very stunned and ugly. When the maids wiped it, his eyes couldn't help but flee from the scar, but he couldn't help but look through the bronze mirror.

Those who kill will be killed one day.

This wound in the waist was left by him when he killed him for the seventh time, and he was almost killed, but he survived after all.

After all, Mo Yutang's new clothes covered that scar, as if it also covered his past.

Nothing had changed, the same short hair, the same thin eyebrows, the same eyes, the same nose, no dimples on his face anyway, and his lips were still a little dry and white.

But he seemed to have changed, and he became more depressed.

The only thing that remains unchanged is the mahogany box tied behind his waist, on which are engraved with a few words, "Water Pavilion by Spring Mistaken Smoke and Rain".

Someone was already waiting for him.

It was the Sword Spirit, dressed in the same clothes as him.

I don't know if it was because of yesterday's drinking, the hatred in Jian Ming's eyes was a little rarer, and he nodded when he saw him come out of the hall.

He nodded back, but there was nothing to say.

In fact, since he got up from Ling Xiang's side, he hasn't said a word.

At this time, he just wanted to be silent.

When the sword goes in front, he walks behind.

Today's streets, for some reason, are exceptionally crowded and more cheerful.

He passed by everyone and turned back to everyone.

However, after all, people have to look ahead, and now in front of him, there is only an empty courtyard, the entrance of the Ink Rain Hall.

The pictures of bamboo forests splashed with ink on the mottled walls are like iron rods cast into shackles, pressing the air to freeze.

Jian Ming had already stepped through the doorway, and looked back at him.

He spoke suddenly.

"Have you ever wanted to leave?"

Jian Ming asked.

"Where to leave?"

He said.

"Ink Rain Hall. ”

Jian Ming replied.

"Nope. ”

He smiled, laughing like Lin Fan, but he couldn't be as moving as Lin Fan.

He glanced nostalgically at the last of the scenery, and then said.

"Let's go. ”

Immediately after, his footsteps stepped into the entrance of the Ink Rain Hall.

From then on, everyone else called him, Remnant Empty.