"I want to see distant places. There are definitely many things we have never seen there, such as blue oceans, dense forests, golden deserts, and many, many things that must be seen."
On the hill, a breeze blew by, bringing with it a hint of chill, blowing the young man's hair.
The young man's eyes shone with anticipation, as if he had already seen the distance. He held a handful of herbs in his hand, the quality of which was close to that of elixir. He risked his life to pick it from the spirit beast's lair.
Although his mother warned him many times not to go, he secretly went to pick without telling her.
The little girl next to her blinked her big eyes, as if she couldn't understand: "Brother, don't we have a map? We all know what is in the distance, why do we have to spend so much effort to see it?"
The boy rubbed the little girl's head with a smile: "Do I need to say this kind of thing? If you don't see it with your own eyes, you will never know the most real world there."
The distance must be the most wonderful world we can hope for.
His eyes were full of the temptation of the distance. The unknown distance was like an unfinished poem, an unfinished symphony, and an unfinished painting, surging and undulating in his heart.
What's the scenery like in the distance? Is it the west wind and thin horse on the ancient road, or is it the small bridge and flowing water of people's homes? Perhaps, it is just a mountain, a river, an unattainable dream. Young people yearn for the unknown world, just like fish yearn for the sea and birds yearn for the blue sky.
He stood on the top of the mountain, watching the rushing clouds and the slow flowing water, and he couldn't help but longing for the distant place in his heart. Perhaps, every young man has one or more distant places in his dreams, which are full of mysteries and unknowns, as well as hopes and challenges.
The distance is so deep, like a bottomless well. Some people say that there are towering mountains and rivers and rippling blue lakes in the distance; some people say that there are ancient Great Walls and bustling cities in the distance. But in his eyes, the far end is more like a journey of life.
What kind of situation is it to be worthy of that expectant look?
…
Finally, we reached the distance, but I was so tired...
On the battlefield, the heaven and earth were in a state of suffocation.
A barren land where the life that once existed has withered away. A huge altar stood in the center of the battlefield. It was a bloody stage, and traces of blood were deeply imprinted on every inch of the altar.
The wind blew gently, bringing coldness and desolation. Above the altar, broken flags swayed in the wind, as if the monks who died in battle were waving their last battle flags. Are their souls still wandering in this land and unwilling to leave?
Broken weapons were scattered around, including knives, swords, and staffs. Every weapon was stained with blood, and every drop of blood bore witness to a monk's bravery and determination.
On the edge of the altar, corpses lay quietly. Are the ghosts who were once buried here still wailing and telling about the cruelty of war?
On the altar, the elegant shirt of the past is now as heavy as lead, as if the splendor of heaven and earth has gone forever.
The wind blows the shirt, fluttering gently, as if it is telling endless sorrow. Fang Yingxing's body was lying on the altar, covered in scars and almost bloody. His face was as pale as paper, his eyes were closed tightly, and there was unspeakable pain between his brows. His chest rose and fell slightly, and every breath was filled with endless hardship.
All around the altar, the previously sacred scenes had become phantoms. Only Fang Yingxing's shirt, as red as a maple leaf, looked particularly dazzling on the dark altar. The wind picked up, carrying bits of sand and stones, seeming to play a poignant elegy for the monks on the altar.
Now, he fell on the altar, with no one beside him. His sword, now dim and dull, was stuck sideways in the altar. On the blade of the sword, there were stains of blood like tears.
He was tired, not just physically, but also with a deep tiredness coming from the deepest part of his body. He wanted to sleep...
Those who were still alive looked at the altar blankly.
They could clearly feel that in the crazy collision just now, there was no winner between the two, but midway, Fang Yingxing's cultivation suddenly dropped a lot, and the dark aura on the left side of his body also disappeared.
Zhan Xian's chest rose and fell violently, and his eyes were filled with uncertainty. He knew that if the young man's body had not suffered such an accident just now, he might not be able to survive that move.
He also felt uncomfortable. The Taoist robe on his body had been dyed red. There were many scars on his body. The deepest ones could even see the bones. His spiritual power was also exhausted. Even if the Immortal Flower kept replenishing his spiritual energy, A drop in the bucket.
He was unwilling to accept it. He was an immortal, but it was a shame for him to reach this level with a mere mortal.
Holding a broken fairy sword, he staggered closer to Fang Yingxing, his hair disheveled and hanging behind his back.
Xu Qing's eyes were full of despair. She was used to seeing death, but she had never been so desperate because her life was about to pass away. Even the loss of her own life could not compare to this despair.
However, just when Zhan Xian was about to stab the sword, his eyes suddenly flashed with panic.
Not just him, almost everyone felt abnormal energy fluctuations around them in the next moment.
Chaos energy surrounded the small formation, covering the entire altar.
The statue of the god glowed, and the mysterious runes of the avenue flashed continuously.
All signs point to one result. The teleportation array is activated and cannot be stopped even if Fang Yingxing is killed.
Zhan Xian suddenly took out a jade talisman from his arms, crushed it, and quickly rushed out of the small formation. Compared with escaping from the secret realm that had bound them for so many years, killing Fang Yingxing suddenly became less important.
Under the altar, Xu Qing's beautiful face was covered with tears. He dragged his injured leg and staggered towards Fang Yingxing as hard as he could, shouting Fang Yingxing's name loudly.
"Fang Yingxing, you promised me that you must come back and come back to me."
Xu Qing's voice trembled. She rushed to the altar desperately, but was blocked by the monks who had survived the disaster. Even her shouts were covered up by the noisy life.
Knowing that the teleportation array has been activated, most people either relaxed or smiled from the bottom of their hearts. This feeling of surviving the disaster is indeed very strong.
It was in sharp contrast to the excitement and laughter among the crowd under the altar.
The young man lying on the ground on the altar was covered in blood, his shirt was torn, and he was motionless and out of place with the crowd.
After the teleportation array was activated, there were fewer and fewer eyes on the altar, and the altar became colder and colder.
Occasionally, a few eyes fell on Fang Yingxing. The eyes were not enthusiastic admiration, but a look that was a little cold and a little reluctant.
Like, some kind of sacrifice was offered.
