Dead bones are buried on the road of evolution, and rotten bodies are buried on the way of cultivating the Tao. The old friends of the beauty are gone with the wind, and the original ambitions are not forgotten. Don’t call yourself Xuanhuang to cover the blue eyes, sitting on the clouds to make good fortune. My monks, as a lonely brave, are cutting the cycle! The sun shook the sky, and the goshawk hit the temple...