The first thousand one hundred and eighty-four chapters
There were thousands of leaves, but only a few fell into the paper. When the wind came again, it turned over the leaves again and rolled them.
Only this time, the paper was not dyed with other colors. Although, the ink in the tip of the pen was still very thick.
The pen rolled from the table to the ground, and then swayed far away with the wind.
One wind is gentle and gentle, but in the succession of several winds, it becomes slow and becomes urgent.
There were more leaves falling in all directions. It was as fast as a heavy rain and it was shaking like a violent snow. Among the thousands of layers, the sound was shaking far away.
The tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of bamboo leaves were blown by the wind and spread from the center to the outer reaches of the sky, causing everything to spread outwards.
The mountains, forests, waterfalls, trees and rocks here are all moving. Only the empty piece of paper is motionless.
In this strong wind, this piece of paper seemed to be a needle that stabilized the sea, stabilizing the table without moving.
The scattered leaves floated by one after another, but they could not carry the blind leaves on the paper. Instead, as the leaves scattered from high places approached, the colors gradually became more brilliant.
The cross suddenly glowed. It was a bright green color, as bright as emerald, and it lingered in the paper.
These are the ten characters that cannot be blown away, which are different from other leaves. These nearly blind leaves seem to be embedded in the paper.
This cross is really embedded in the paper and becomes a part of it.
The sound of footsteps sounded in the distance. It was a little hasty, and then the sound became louder and louder, eventually surpassing the sound of the wind.
This was an old man in gray clothes, walking straight towards the direction of the spring water.
When he saw the one on the ground buried under the leaves, with only the sharp edges showing, his cloudy eyes suddenly shrank.
"World Soul Pen"
This pen is no ordinary pen.
This stroke can even evoke the scenery of the world and recreate the world. It is also the soul of this world. With one stroke, everything is painted.
"Why did the World Soul Pen fall to the ground?" The old man's cloudy eyes flashed.
From ancient times to the present, this pen has never been turned over on that table, and no one has ever picked up this pen.
Because this pen carries the soul of the world!
A small pen is the soul of the Seven Realms of God's Realm. Although this pen contains a soul, its weight is heavier than the real Seven Realms of God's Realm.
The old man kept his head lowered, his eyes always falling on the peak of the pen.
As the Lord of this world and the Lord of the Seven Realms of God's Domain, he naturally knows the weight of this sum.
Although, old
The strength of this person has reached its peak in this realm of oblivion and even the land of Nine Heavens, but he still cannot lift this pen.
Because I couldn't lift a pen, I couldn't describe it on that piece of paper.
When Lao Cheng took the second step, he came here and received the inheritance of heaven and earth.
When he arrived, he saw the table in front of the waterfall and the pen, ink, paper and inkstone.
However, the old man could only look at it, but he could not leave a mark. From then on, when he saw the piece of paper for the first time, he had a strong intuition.
If you can leave a word on this piece of paper, then you will be truly recognized by the world here and turn the power of one world into your own power.
Also like the Lord of the Netherworld!
This pen carries the souls of the seven realms of God's Realm. Then this piece of paper carries the continuation path after this realm.
It is the road to this world, and it is also the rise of those who left behind the description.
Few people know that the realm of oblivion was once a vast place.
In an extremely distant era, the vast world may not only consist of nine heavens and ten earths, but also all the heavens and realms. Or perhaps, there may be more than four great realms in this vast expanse.
They didn't know, and neither did the old man. In the past, how many great realms there were in the vastness.
The old man only knew that there were only four left. And through the clues left in this area, he learned that this was once a vast sky.
The reason why it has been forgotten is because this vast world has collapsed. The world that has dispersed and ceased to exist has turned into this empty piece of paper.
The old man took a deep breath, bent down, slowly stretched out his hand, and gently picked up one leaf after another until the entire pen was exposed.
Then, hold your palms slightly and raise your whole body's strength.
Nothing moved. Even though there was a shocking force in the old man's body, this one did not move. Not only this pen, but even the fallen leaves in all directions did not move.
The fluttering of the leaves is all due to the wind from all directions. It has nothing to do with this shocking force.
"What kind of power moved this pen?" The old man took a deep breath with shock on his face.
"Could it be"
He suddenly thought of something, and his heart, which had been silent for a long time, began to beat violently.
When he stood up and raised his head, his eyes fell directly on that one.
The old man saw the stone in the paper and the two lines of ten words, and his heart beat even more violently.
"Looking at the Stone of Mountain
Could it be that the legend of Jubuwanshulou has come true?”
There has always been a legend in the Forgotten Realm. This legend is unknown to everyone in the world, even the Xuanjing Immortal who is the second step has never heard of it.
There is only one person in the world who is qualified to know this legend. That is the God of this world.
It is precisely because the old man, as the God of this world, was so excited when he saw these two lines of crosses.
Several eyes penetrated the void from far away places and landed on this world and on that painting.
Someone stretched out lazily, stretched out his hand and patted his face as red as the blazing sun, so that he could wake up, and then said one word after another, "There is fame in the world, but only among the common people.
A river of snow and rain, a biting cold wind, is nothing more than a hundred years of sorrow."
"I didn't expect that that legend would actually appear in the world. It really fulfilled what Chu Musheng said when he went to that road of death."
"He is a god, a demon, and an immortal. Turn off the lights and sit in silence to listen to the sad rain." Someone else spoke softly. This was an extremely tired but cold female voice.
"You are really strong, I know you won't die easily."
The woman had no interface, but spoke lightly. In her indifference, only she knew the joy hidden in her words.
"Now the world has not gathered enough to compete with the ocean, let alone compete with the vast sky."
"In my opinion, it may not be impossible."
The woman was silent for a moment and said, "I sat in secret and listened to all the suffering in this life. Only in this way can the grief hidden deep in my heart be touched. Only in this way can we truly know what is the real strong man and the real morality."
The world is your home, and everyone in the world is your relative."
"It is compassion as the current and Tao as the boat."
This was a dialogue between two supremely powerful men in the air, but their minds were not in conversation, but in the color of the sky.
In the realm of oblivion, on a certain day of a certain year and a certain month, visions of heaven and earth appeared.
This is the powder of Taotao. On this day, it rained in all seven realms of God's Domain. A rain of peach blossoms filled the sky.