Thousands of leaves, only a few of them fall on the paper. When the wind came again, it turned the other one again, and rolled around.

Only this time, there were no other colors in the paper. Although, the ink in the pen is still very thick.

The pen rolled off the table and fell to the ground, and then flipped into the distance with the wind.

A wind is gentle, but in several successions, there is a slowness into a rush.

There are more leaves falling in all directions. Hurried as a torrential rain, shaking like a torrential snow. In the midst of a thousand layers, the intermittent sound shook into the distance again.

In these tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of bamboo leaves, the wind stirred up one after another, and they swelled from the center to the outer part of the sky, making everything scatter outward.

The mountains, forests, waterfalls, trees and rocks in this square are moving. The only thing that didn't move, only the empty piece of paper.

In this gale, this piece of paper seems to have become a needle in the sea, flattening the table without moving.

The scattered leaves, for a short period of time, floated one after another, but they couldn't bring the nearly 100 leaves on the paper. Instead, as the leaves scattered from the heights approached, the colors gradually became more vibrant.

The cross shines brightly. It's a bright green color, as bright as a jade, and it doesn't disappear in that paper.

These are the ten words that cannot be blown away, and they are different from other leaves. These nearly 100 shutters seem to be embedded in paper.

This cross really got into the paper and became a part of the paper.

There was the sound of footsteps, sounding in the distance. There was a little hurry, and then the sound grew louder and louder, and finally the speed surpassed the wind.

It was an old man dressed in gray, walking straight in the direction of the spring.

When he saw the one on the ground buried under the leaves, only the tip of the pen was exposed, his cloudy eyes suddenly shrank.

"Soul Pen ......"

This pen is not an ordinary pen.

This stroke can even evoke the scenery of the world, recreate the world and the world, and it is also the soul of this world.

"The Soul Pen... Why did it fall to the ground?" the old man's cloudy eyes flickered.

From time immemorial to the present, this pen has never been turned over in that table, and no one has ever picked it up.

Because of this pen, it carries the soul of a world!

A small pen is the soul of the Seven Realms of the Divine Domain. Although this pen contains a soul, its weight is heavier than the true Seven Realms of the Divine Domain.

The old man kept his head down, and his eyes kept falling on the peak of the pen.

As the Lord of this Realm, and as the Lord of the Seven Realms of the Divine Domain, he naturally knows the weight of this amount.

Although, the strength of the old man, in this realm of oblivion, and even the land of the Nine Heavens have reached the peak, he still can't lift this pen.

I couldn't pick up a pen, so I couldn't draw on that piece of paper.

When Lao Cheng took the second step, he came here. Inherited by heaven and earth.

From the moment he came, he saw the table in front of the waterfall, and saw the ink, paper, and inkstone.

However, the old man can only look at it, but he can't leave a single trace. From then on, from the first glance at the piece of paper, I had a strong intuition.

If you can leave a word in this paper, then you will be truly recognized by this heaven and earth, and turn the power of a realm into your own power.

Like the Lord of the Netherworld!

This pen carries the soul of the Seven Realms of the Divine Domain. Then this piece of paper carries the continuation of this world.

It is the road to this realm, and it is also the road to the rise of those who have left behind the depiction.

Few people know that the Forgotten Realm was once a vast place.

In an extremely distant era, the Great Realm of the Sea may not only have nine heavens and ten earths, but also the heavens and ten thousand worlds. Perhaps, this vastness is not only the four great realms.

They don't know, and neither does the old man. In the past, in the vastness, how many great realms were there.

The old man only knew that there were only four left. And through the clues left in this heaven and earth, I learned that this was once a vast sky.

The reason why it has been forgotten is because this vast expanse has collapsed. This heaven and earth, which has been scattered and does not exist, has become this empty piece of paper.

The old man took a deep breath, bent down, slowly stretched out his hand, and gently stroked one leaf after another until the whole pen was revealed.

Then, hold the palm of your hand slightly and lift the strength of your whole body.

The thread did not move, although there was an earth-shattering momentum on this old man, this one did not move. Not only this pen, but even the fallen leaves in all directions have not fluctuated.

The fluttering of the leaves is due to the wind in all directions. It has nothing to do with this earth-shattering situation.

"Exactly... What a power.... Moved the pen. The old man took a heavy breath, his face shocked.

"Is it ........?"

He suddenly thought of something, and a heart that had been silent for a long time began to beat violently.

When he stood up and looked up, his gaze fell straight on the one.

The old man saw the stone in the paper, and also saw the two lines and ten words, and his heart thumped even more violently.

"Guanit Mountain... Stone ...... Walk to Wanshulou.... Something of legend... It's come true... Don't... Is it ........?"

There has always been a legend in the Forgotten Realm. This legend is unknown to the world, even if it is a second-step Xuanjing Immortal, he has never known it.

This legend is known only to the world. That is, the God of this realm.

It is precisely because the old man, who is the god of this realm, that he is so excited when he sees these two lines of crosses.

There were several gazes that pierced through the void from a distant land, and fell on this side of the world, and fell on that painting.

Someone lazily stretched his waist, stretched out his hand and patted his face as red as the scorching sun, so that he could sober up, and then said word after word: "There is merit and fame in the world, only remember the common people." Even if the snow and rain and the cold wind are biting, it is just a hundred years of sorrow. ”

"I didn't expect that legend to really appear in the world. It really fulfilled the words that Chu Musheng said when he went to the road of death. ”

"It's a god, a demon or a fairy, put out the lights and sit in the dark to listen to the sad rain. Someone spoke softly, a very tired woman's voice, but with a cold frost.

"If you are really strong, the old man will know that you will not die easily. ”

The woman did not speak, but spoke lightly, in the indifference, only she knew, the joy hidden in the sentence.

"Now this river and lake has not yet condensed to the point where it can compete with Wang Yang, let alone compete with the vast sky. ”

"According to the old man, it may not be impossible. ”

The woman was silent for a moment and said, "Secretly sit and forget, listen to the suffering of this life." Only in this way can we touch the grief hidden deep in our hearts, and only in this way can we truly know what it means to be truly strong and truly moral. In order to be able to make a home in the world and be close to the people of the world. ”

"It is a flow of compassion and a boat of the Tao......"

This is the dialogue between the two supreme powerhouses, but the thoughts of these two people are not chatting with each other, but falling in a sky full of colors.

The realm of oblivion, a certain year, a certain month, and a certain day, there is a vision of heaven and earth.

This is the powder of the waves, on this day, the seven realms of the divine realm, all rained. A rain of peach blossoms in the sky.

This rain is a full 600 years.