Author:
Categories: fantasy (fiction)
Statuses: Updating
There was a witch with a smile like a peach blossom, five fingers like hooks, sucking out the blood of millions of gods. There is a chivalrous swordsman with one arm, snapping her fingers and flying knives to smash the ancestral court of the Immortal Race from afar. There is a beggar dressed in tattered clothes, holding a broken bowl, he dared to rush to the spiritual mountain of the Buddha tribe. There is a scholar who is thirsty for fine wine, who picks a lamp and looks at the sword in a drunken state, and measures the mountains and rivers of the demon race on foot. There is an old man who sits on top of a mountain for a year, turns around, carries a peach blossom branch, and smokes the ghost tribe's wheel...