There are thousands of leaves, but only a few leaves fall into the paper. When the wind came again, it flipped the hair again and rolled it around.
Only this time, the paper was not dyed with other colors. Although, the ink in the brush tip is still very thick.
The pen rolled off the table and fell 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 urgent.
There are more leaves falling in all directions. It is as fast as a heavy rain and as violent as a snowstorm. Among the thousands of layers, the sound swayed into the distance again.
The tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of bamboo leaves were blown by the wind and spread from the center to the outside, causing everything to spread outwards.
The mountains, forests, waterfalls, trees and rocks here are all moving. The only thing that didn't move was the empty piece of paper.
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 nearly 100 leaves on the paper. On the contrary, as the leaves scattered from high places get closer, the colors gradually become more brilliant.
The cross suddenly glowed. This is a bright green color, as bright as emerald, and it lingers in the paper.
These are ten words that cannot be blown away, which are different from other leaves. The nearly blinds seem to be embedded in the paper.
This cross really entered the paper and became a part of it.
There were footsteps, echoing in the distance. There was a slight rush, and then the sound became louder and louder, and finally the speed surpassed 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 tip of the pen 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. Under 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 a world!
A small pen is the soul of the seven realms of God's Domain. Although this pen contains a soul, its weight is heavier than the real Seven Realms of God's Domain.
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.
Even though the old man's strength has reached its peak in the Forgotten Realm and even the Nine Heavens, 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. Gain 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 watch, but he could not leave a trace. From then on, from the first moment I saw that piece of paper, I 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.
Just like the Lord of the Netherworld!
This pen carries the soul of the seven realms of the divine realm. Then this piece of paper carries the continuation path after this world.
It is the path to this world, and it is also the path to 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 great world of the sea may not only consist of nine heavens and ten lands, but also all the worlds. Or perhaps, there are 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 were there in the vastness?
The old man only knew that there were only four left. And through the clues left in this world, I learned that this was once a vast sky.
The reason why it is 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.
Even though the old man had a shocking power, this one didn't move at all. Not only this pen, but even the fallen leaves in all directions have not fluctuated.
The fluttering of leaves is due to the wind from all directions. It has nothing to do with this shocking trend.
"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 from the mountain... walking in the Ten Thousand Books Tower... the legendary thing... has come true... could it be... could it be..."
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 gazes 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 to wake himself up, and then said one word after another: "There is fame in the world, only among the common people. Even if there is snow and rain in the river and the biting cold wind, it will only be 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.
"If 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: "Sit in secret and listen to all the suffering in this life. Only in this way can the grief hidden deep in the heart be touched. Only in this way can we truly know what a truly strong person is and what is true morality." Treat the world as your family, treat everyone in the world as your family."
"It is compassion as the current and Tao as the boat..."
This was a conversation 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 month, visions of heaven and earth appeared.
This is the powder of Taotao. On this day, it rained in all the seven realms of God's Domain. A rain of peach blossoms filled the sky.
This rain lasted for six hundred years.
