The sky is high and the clouds are light, and the geese are singing.

Sometimes the wind rises, the trees are sorrowful, the autumn insects are long, short, intermittent, continuous, singing sad songs, and the sound is as helpless and sad as the yellow fallen leaves. Lamenting the shortness of life, lamenting the fragility of life, this is a harvest season, but the ripeness and sweetness of the fruit will be accompanied by the withering of branches and leaves, accompanied by withered flowers, accompanied by the youthfulness that once had and never returned. The grass and trees wither, all things are born and destroyed, all the joys, sorrows, sorrows and sorrows of birth, old age, sickness and death will be annihilated in the long river of time, but what is immortal is the belief in the heart, like a meteor flying arrow, with the bright bloom of that moment through the years, through time and space, through reincarnation, leaving the eternal legend in the world!

Why be helpless and sad, why lament and be sad, the endless beautiful scenery between heaven and earth is in front of us, and the infinite excitement of life is also available. Look at the blue sky and white clouds, you see the majestic mountains and soft rivers, you see the vast yellow in the mountains covering the unyielding blue, and the fiery red. That's the maple leaves, the autumn maple leaves, the graceful maple leaves, like clouds and clouds, and more like clusters of huge flowers, blooming between heaven and earth and mountains, red and pleasing to the eye, red and shocking, red like blood!

That's the brainsman's work.

Every fallen leaf has its own pride.

Every fruit is the condensation of painstaking efforts.

One hundred and eight was holding a mountain pear and nibbling, squatting on a tree trunk and squeezing his eyebrows and grimacing.

Snort, snort, brush!

The man was practicing his sword under a tree, and the fallen leaves were flying in the forest.

One hundred and eight didn't understand, what was he doing? One hundred and eight wanted to go hunting, and one hundred and eight would fade out of his mouth! But he didn't do it. One hundred and eight wants to eat meat, and one hundred and eight wants to play, but one hundred and eight can only gnaw on the pear like this, making a boring face, which is not fun at all.

The green steel sword has no ears and no sheaths, and the blade is not opened. Each of the eighty-one disciples of the Shangqing Dynasty has a sword, and each of the eighty-one green steel swords is the same. I have been practicing the use of swords, and I can't open the blade, although it is not sharp, but I also take advantage of it, so that it is light and convenient. It is said that there are countless swords in the Shangqing Peak Immortal Sword Pavilion, and when the art is completed in ten years, you can go in and choose one. It's still a long way off, and there are still a few years left? One, two, three, four, five, three, two, one, whatever! Just for next year's Mid-Autumn Festival competition, sword practice, sword practice, practice!

The Twelve Swords of Yuqing.

Fang Yin is practicing swords-

There is a way of heaven in the sky, and there is a way of sword in the sword, and only by really calming down can we get a glimpse of the mystery. No matter what you do, as long as you are fully engaged in it, as long as you are immersed in it, you will experience its unique charm and endless fun. Things that seem simple are not necessarily simple, things that seem boring are not necessarily boring, just like Daoist Fang's internal swordsmanship that he was not willing to practice when he was killed, at this time, he really felt it with his heart, and he actually found a lot of fun and indulged in it.

The rhythm of retraction and release, the rhythm of movement and stillness, the cheerful and wonderful flow of true qi through the meridians and acupoints, the strange feeling of muscles and bones stretching and trembling, and those were all feelings that Fang Yin had never experienced.

You listen, you listen, the sword blade pierces the air and hisses and whines and trembles, sometimes wild, sometimes low, sometimes weeping, sometimes singing happily; ――

So that's it!

Fang Yin finally understood, Fang Yin finally understood-

That's it, no matter what you do, it's like that, as long as you put your mind to it.

Fang Yin is growing.

One hundred and eight didn't understand, one hundred and eight didn't even think about it, and one hundred and eight yawned and was about to fall asleep. In fact, one hundred and eight is not small, but one hundred and eight always treats himself as a child, eating and sleeping all day long, not seeking energy, and only thinking about playing. This is a lazy, greedy and sycophant monkey, and has no pursuits, no ambitions, no ideals, and I am afraid that there will be no future when I grow up. It's a joke, that's not necessarily, anyway, one hundred and eight thinks that his skills are very great, and one hundred and eight will change again!

One hundred and eight squeaked and jumped down the tree, and began to tumble in the grass on the ground.

Then he held a small wooden stick and began to practice along with the gestures!

I didn't think it was beautiful, so I changed it to a longer one.

It's still too light, so it's a thicker one.

Why don't you take advantage of it? One hundred and eight are angry! Look for it again!

Look for it, the forest is big, and there are all kinds of sticks.

Maybe when it finds the golden rod, it will suddenly become promising!

will become the Monkey King.

"Herod" neighed, and a horse on the top of the distant slope stood up, hoofed the blue sky and stepped on the white clouds, looking extraordinary and majestic. Time freezes. It was a figure of freedom, a reflection of pride, and a picture of unrestrainedness. Immediately, the front hooves fell heavily, stepped through the condensation, stepped through the illusion, stepped on the fetters and stepped on the smashing and pulling, quietly glanced at it, only one glance, and raised its four hooves and rumbled away.

Self-reliance.

Qingyun ran tirelessly, as if there was a never-ending path under his feet. Even if there is no road ahead, Qingyun has to run through and step out of the way, just because there is an invisible whip behind him that is ruthlessly whipping Qingyun. That's the ideal, that's the dream, that's the desire, that's the hope, that's the whip of the proud surname in the blood and marrow of the free wild surname, urging Qingyun to break through the world and shake off the fate to break out of his own way, and find the glory that belongs to him!

The evergreen mane flutters like a flag, and the green clouds turn into flying arrows and meteors, through the years, through the wind and frost, through the light and darkness, and through the long river of memory.

When the six are opened at the same time, heaven and earth are unified!

The wind is cold and the snow is shining, the cold wind between the white heaven and the earth is howling and mourning, rolling up the snow and mist, and dancing with the dead branches and leaves, the cold of the bones is pervasive and ubiquitous, killing everywhere! Killing everywhere! Killing everywhere! The power of heaven is unpredictable, look at his plain and gentle and suddenly raging madness, who is not convinced! The snow is white, and it is plain white, beautiful but desolate, ruthlessly plundering life, watching death erase a trace of warmth and cruelty in his heart!

Plausible.

Not.

The snow is warm, and the cold is not what it seems. Snow is a quilt, covering the earth to send warmth, cold is oneself. Snow is water, nourishing all things and bringing vitality, and it is oneself that transforms. Heaven and earth are inherently affectionate, and seemingly ruthless is just seemingly ruthless. Just as when the heat is over, there will be bitter cold, and when the heat is gone, there will be new life. The snow is warm, the snow is cold, depending on which side. The sky is merciless, the sky is merciless, depending on which side. Still verdant in the plain field, a little, a little, a little, that is the pine and cypress. The majestic posture and tenacious belief make it not afraid of the cold and not change its color and ambition, and make up a little vitality for this desolate and vast desert world, a little, a little, and a little.

One more point.

Green.

Moving--

That's Qingyun.

Qingyun ran tirelessly as always, as if he had been running there all the time and never left-

Only a little dust raised behind him turned into thousands of snow chips.

At the top of the hillside, the green clouds suddenly stopped, and glanced there again, and after a single glance, they splashed thorns and thorns and flew over the snow and walked away.

He's not there.

It is said that Qingyun hasn't seen him for a while. But Qingyun didn't want him. Qingyun was originally a proud horse, but now he is arrogant. Whoever can't keep up with Qingyun's footsteps, Qingyun will leave him far behind, then he can only blame himself, who calls him incompetent? And arrogance often represents loneliness, and Qingyun is also a lonely horse. But Qingyun didn't care, because Qingyun had a dream in his heart. The process of pursuing dreams is happy, no matter how lonely it is, no matter how lonely it is.

However, Qingyun still stayed for a moment and glanced at it, although only at a glance-

Qingyun still has a little bit in his heart-

Miss him.

The green mane is still flying like a flag, fresh and vivid, pleasing to the eye and more dazzling, becoming the most unique scenery in the vast mountains! The sound of hooves resounded between heaven and earth, breaking the silence and silence, lonely and dead silence, boom! Boom! It was the drum of the earth beating with four hooves, it was a warm and unrestrained song of freedom, accompanied by the dance of endless and endless battles.

Sing for eternity!

"Do you accept it, do you accept it, you you, and you, do you accept it!" One hundred and eight squeaked and pointed around, grinning with arrogant attitude! A group of monkeys huddled together in the forest to keep warm, staring at it with blank eyes. This monkey is becoming less and less monkey-like, carrying a stick on his body all day long, scaring this and provoking that, seeing that his tail is going to the sky!

"Convinced, served, we are all convinced. The monkeys said helplessly.

One hundred and eight shouted twice in satisfaction, lowered his head and stuck the stick behind his waist, then flicked his sleeves in a dashing manner, and swaggered away. Not only the scepter? And the belt! And the coat! One hundred and eight have already changed their guns, and they are showing off in a majestic manner! What? A rolling pin? A hemp rope? And a ragged gown that someone else has used? So what? Do you have it? Do you have it? Who is this red-eyed again! If you don't accept it, you eat a stick!

Hey――

One hundred and eight picked a clean, leeward tree and sat down, and then sulked!

Don't look at the majestic scenery of one hundred and eighty-eight, in fact, one hundred and eight is also very troubled, and one hundred and eight also has a hard time! The king has not been here for many days, and one hundred and eight misses him very much. The king didn't come, he didn't eat or drink, winter came, the mountain fruits were gone, and one hundred and eight had to gnaw the bark and eat grass roots, which was boring! It wasn't fun at all! How miserable it was, and it was boring, and it was annoying! So the scenery on the surface of one hundred and eight was actually very depressed in the heart.

If he doesn't come again, one hundred and eight won't love him!

It's like I don't love the fragrant, tender and oily roast chicken butt, I don't love him anymore!

The more one hundred and eight thought about it, the more angry he became, and he screamed violently, pulled out the stick, and slammed the tree!

Outcome.

A large puddle of snow fell, burying one hundred and eight.

"Chicken ass, chicken ass, you chicken ass!" One hundred and eight squeaked and jumped out of the snowdrift and climbed onto another tree, pointing at the tree and yelling!

After scolding, he found that his hands were empty, and the treasure stick was lost.

Hey?

Hurry up and find it!

No, no, no!

One hundred and eight was about to cry.

Sticks, sticks, sticks, what about my sticks?

The stick is gone.;