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People can never see through the mirror, the moon in the water, but the smoke and cloud between my fingers, the millennium in the world, is like a moment to me. In the dream, the flowers are all gone, this feeling is still young, this meaning is unforgettable, although the string is broken, the song is still playing. The long song should cry, for those promises that could not be fulfilled, for the deepest love in life, and finally scattered into clouds.
Chapter 1: The Thousand-Daozong
Night, very quiet.
The pale moonlight hid behind the heavy clouds, and no one was silent. In that silence, it highlighted the repression.
The wind whiz across the earth, blowing away the peace between heaven and earth.
In the sky, there are dark clouds, lightning and thunder, and sometimes a lightning across from time to time, bright heaven and earth, between the heaven and earth presented a candlelight, a short moment will disappear again into the darkness.
A drizzle in this piece of heaven and earth, fell down. Like Jiangnan drizzle, soft, but with a hint of cold, in this piece of heaven and earth gradually diffuse, wet.
Thousands of Taoism, the people are noisy, but the noisy is not a symbol of prosperity, but a panic, a sense of unease.
A wing, candle flickering, flickering, driving the ground of two people’s figure, cast on the ground, into a piece of light, diffuse open.
There is an old man sitting on the cologne chair, wearing a white dress, white hair beard, Xianfeng bone today who has. He looks like a fairy.
There was, however, an inexpressible air of repression in the ethereal, apparently a very profound old monster.
Now his eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, and a look of great pain flashed across his face, as if the unknown future would bring him some nightmare.
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