Jing Zhaomei's bud-like body shook again, and he didn't speak, just looked up at the rain pouring down his head, motionless, as if he had fallen into some kind of memory.

Lan Yutang sighed slightly, put his hand back on the erected green silk silver qin, knocked on the body of the ancient wood without a match, and said slowly:

Over the years, your heart has been filled with hatred, perhaps too tired, now, let me play a song for you, wash away all the fatigue and troubles in your chest.

Speaking of this, he suddenly turned around and leaned against the body of the green silk silver qin erected there, and his jade-like hand slowly slid over the immortal jade flute as red as blood and as gorgeous as a rose.

The low sound of the flute suddenly drew slowly from the seven jade caves on the body of the flute, like a first-class painter in the court splashing ink on rice paper.

The low sound of the flute is like countless colorful butterflies suddenly crossing the clouds from the distant sky to this unknown forest of death, dancing and dancing.

Colorful butterflies are fluttering in the face of the endless night rain, flapping their wings, leisurely, fluttering, through the branches of the verdant and dense fir, towards the top of the mountain.

Jing Zhaomei's footprints couldn't help but follow the butterfly all the way to the top of the mountain.

What made him feel strange was that the dead forest on the mountainside where he had just stood was pouring rain, and it had entered the late autumn season, and the trees were withering and the red leaves were flying.

However, on the top of the mountain, the sun is shining, warm as spring, like spring in the south of the Yangtze River.

The same mountain, mountainside, mountaintop, but like the two poles of the world, are two completely different worlds.

The summit is not as steep or narrow as you might think, but an open field.

In the wilderness, thousands of flowers bloom, exuding a dense fragrance.

The butterflies that flew from the dead forest on the mountainside just now gathered with the butterflies that flew among the thousands of flowers on the top of the mountain, and landed on Jing Zhaomei, a stranger who had just arrived.

Jing Zhaomei was panicked, like falling into a fog.

Although thousands of flowers gathered, so dense that they were almost breathless, they were dense and layered, not the kind of chaotic denseness.

In the middle of the flowers, there is a quiet stone path that leads to the deeper part of the flowers.

There is moss on the stone path, as if it is covered with a layer of green felt.

At the end of the stone path, there is a manor, far away, I don't know how many miles it occupies.

Well?

Seeing this manor, Jing Zhaomei was suddenly stunned, because in his memory, there seemed to be only one Hongmen on this mountain, and there were no other people.

At this moment, why is there such a place on the top of this hill that is like spring all year round? Why is there such a manor that I don't know where?

He can be said to have grown up on this mountain since he was a child, and he has memorized every grass and tree on this mountain, but this place is ......

When Jing Zhaomei felt even more incredible, he had obviously never been to this manor, but there was a sense of déjà vu in his head, as if he had lived here since he was born.

Where the hell is this, and where am I now?

Jing Zhaomei himself was stunned.

When he was stunned by the sudden appearance of the manor, he suddenly found that he had come to the door of the manor, and then, when he looked up, he found that the vermilion lacquer plaque on the gate read: Baiyun Villa.

Baiyun Villa?

Isn't Baiyun Villa the place where Jing Zhaomei was born, and isn't it the manor where his biological parents lived before their death?

Jing Zhaomei's body shook suddenly, and he only felt soft all over.

I...... I...... How did I get here?

Why is Baiyun Mountain Villa on the same mountain as Hongmen?

Baiyun Villa doesn't know how many acres it occupies, but the huge manor does not have the hustle and bustle unique to the big families under the mountain, but is permeated with a certain tranquility, death-like tranquility.

This...... This...... What's going on here?

Jing Zhaomei suppressed the wild beating in his heart, took a deep breath, stepped on the steps, slowly clasped his hand on the already green brass knocker, and pushed the door in.

Then, I smelled a strong smell of blood.

Baiyun Villa, which was supposed to have lost its owner, suddenly appeared a few people at this moment.

It's three people.

Two of them stood facing each other, glaring angrily.

It's a man and a woman.

The man was about twenty years old, his eyes were arrogant, the protruding lines of his body were like a murderous aura in the sky, and his hands were holding a long knife with a slightly curved streamline, standing in the wind.

Then, the figure froze, suddenly retracted the knife, inserted it into the long sheath behind his back, chatted lightly about the green shirt, and then came towards the gate.

The woman stood on the long steps in front of the main hall, her face pale, her eyes radiating more cruelty than hatred, staring coldly at the departing man.

Beside the woman, there was a man bleeding from his left wrist, the red blood blending with the ink that had been knocked over on the small table next to him, reflecting the colorful sunlight.

At this moment, the three people who appeared in front of Jing Zhaomei, although he saw them for the first time, he had a feeling of déjà vu.

Especially the young man who was carrying a streamlined long knife that was coming towards him at this moment.

Although this man is young, he can even be regarded as a young and handsome man, and he is even more familiar, especially the cruel and decisive look in his eyes, which he will never forget.

That look had become his eternal nightmare.

Now it may not look like the person who has been appearing in his nightmares, but if you stick the long hair of Wuliu on the corner of his mouth, you may be surprised to find that the person who has raised him for fifteen years is his former master, Lightning Knife Honghui.

As for the woman who stared coldly at the departing Hong Hui, and the young man lying on the ground with blood flowing, he seemed to have seen it somewhere.

Oh, yes, on the walls of Honghui's secret room.

Thinking of this, Jing Zhaomei was almost unsteady on his feet, and almost fell on the bloody bluestone slab, they were the young couple with a baby in their arms hanging on the wall of Hong Hui's secret room.

That is, his biological parents of Jing Zhaomei.

Jing Zhaomei endured the pain, supporting his crumbling body with his hands against the wall, not knowing why he was reunited with his dead parents.

Could it be a step back in time?

Still is......

Or is he already dead and reuniting with his dead parents and master on the road to Huangquan, reliving the grievances of twenty years ago?

It's not just these three people who have some kind of intimacy with themselves, but even the scene that is happening in front of them seems to be a little familiar.

Isn't that what it is......

Isn't this the scene where his master, Lightning Sword Hong Hui, defeated ninety-nine masters in the rivers and lakes in a row twenty years ago, and then went to Baiyun Mountain Villa alone to challenge the Baiyun Swordsman?

Be......

It was Lan Yutang's Phoenix Night Memoto that reproduced the scene of that year in his mind.