Fan Xian held the iron drill inserted into his chest and abdomen tightly with his left hand, feeling the coldness coming from the metal. As the blood gushed out, he felt a cold sweetness in his nose and throat, and even his body became cold.

The black cloth that was so close to me was still not covered with stars and dust. The face, which was pure and tender and without a trace of wrinkles, seemed to tell a story that lasted hundreds of thousands of years.

Fan Xian stared at this familiar face in a daze, but found that he could no longer find a familiar smell from this face. It was still this face and this black cloth, but he knew clearly that the person in front of him was no longer Uncle Wu Zhu, at least at this moment, he was not Uncle Wu Zhu.

It is obvious that this person is that person, but this person is not that person. After twenty years of being together, it is like meeting a stranger at this time. What a sad and sad thing.

When Fan Xian saw the big box behind Wang Shisanlang, he felt a warning in his heart. He did not find Uncle Wu Zhu. He was happy to complete the greatest purpose of this trip to the temple, because he keenly noticed a little problem. For the temple, Uncle Wu Zhu was the most powerful and senior messenger at the time. But now he is the biggest traitor. Because Uncle Wu Zhu protects his mother and himself, countless envoys in the temple died in the hands of Uncle Wu Zhu. Since the temple finally controlled Uncle Wu Zhu, how could he put him at will where Wang Shisanlang could easily find it.

Unless the temple can be sure that it can completely control Wuzhu, it will not care about Wuzhu's movements. It is precisely based on this judgment that Fan Xian ordered Wang Shisanlang to break out of the temple with a box as soon as possible. He firmly believed that as long as he left the scope of the temple, the temple could no longer control Wuzhu, but all this reaction was too late.

A black light flashed in the air, the box broke, and the five bamboos covered with a black cloth instantly rushed from behind Wang Shisanlang to Fan Xian. He put his body on his body like a shrimp, as if he didn't know Fan Xian at all, and he had never been to live and die for Fan Xian and his son.

The moment she saw the black light, Fan Xian couldn't help but remember the scene that Lord Sean recounted many years ago. When the gate of the temple opened, the four-year-old ice and snow fairy Ye Qingmei escaped from the temple gate, and a black light flashed out like this, and with only one move, he smashed Kuhe into a gourd rolling on the ground.

Fan Xian stared at the black cloth on Wuzhu's face, feeling the severe pain in his chest and abdomen, and knew what method the temple used to erase Uncle Wuzhu's memory again, and even... it turned into a blank space.

Blood surged out from Fan Xian's lips. He looked pale, but his eyes were extremely firm. He quickly raised his right hand in difficulty and stopped Haitang and Wang Shisanlang from taking action in shock.

Because he knew that when facing Uncle Wu Zhu, Haitang and Wang Shisanlang had no power to fight back at all. Once they joined the battle, they would have to die. If they could get rid of the most dangerous situation at the moment, they could only rely on themselves!

Blood spurted, and Fan Xian shrank on the iron rod in pain, looking extremely miserable. However, he could still think. He did not die immediately, and even raised his right hand to stop Haitang and Wang Shisanlang from acting in grief. This only proves that Wu Zhu's extremely powerful and accurate stab did not hit him in the vital point.

This is a very difficult thing to understand. In the realm of Wuzhu, who can survive except for the masters in the world? What's more, Fan Xian was originally seriously injured and sick. I believe he had never even thought about the temple. Fan Xian could survive under Wuzhu's men, so the sound that sounded from all directions was silent, as if he was waiting for Wuzhu to judge Fan Xian's life and death.

Yes, no one can avoid Wu Zhu's attack, but Fan Xian can!

Since Wu Zhu presented the kitchen knife in his hand to Fan Xian in that grocery store. On the cliffs of Danzhou, accompanied by the slightly salty and wet sea breeze, Fan Xian welcomed Wu Zhu's stick education every day. After being shattered countless times, the shrunk little yellow flowers finally became much tougher.

After thousands of attacks, Fan Xian has appeared on many purple times, but fortunately, he has the ability to survive in the world and his extremely exquisite body skills. What’s more important is that he is the person in this world who knows the direction and speed of Wuzhu’s attack.

However, in the past tens of thousands of times, Wu Zhu held the ground in his hand and was the wooden stick, but today his hand was a sharp iron rod. Fan Xian could not completely avoid this thorn, but in the moment before the black light came to his body, he forced his turn to make the iron rod move forward, avoiding his heart and lung leaves. It seemed that blood was gushing, but in fact it only hurt the heart under the ribs.

Wuzhu's head was slightly lowered, and the black cloth was fluttering in the cold breeze. There was no emotion on his face, and it was impossible to tell whether this peerless strong man was surprised that the human in front of him could avoid his sting. In the eyes of others, he just kept that movement and pierced Fan Xian on the iron rod.

"If I tell you this, my mother can't believe it." This is a sentence that Fan Xian said with coughing blood.

Just after this sentence, Wu Zhu was silent for a moment, and suddenly asked coldly: "Your mother's surname is."

It was this light, just like a light, that instantly occupied Fan Xian's mind, allowing him to see a hint of survival. He stared at the black cloth and said, "My mother's surname is Ye."

Wuzhu did not respond.

"You call her Miss." Fan Xian looked at Uncle Wu Zhu with indifferent expression, and for some reason he felt sad, even more than the pain in the wound. He said in a sad voice.

Wuzhu still had no reaction.

"She is Ye Qingmei, my name is Fan Xian, your name is Wu Zhu." Fan Xian vomited off the blood foam on his lips, looked at Wu Zhu and said viciously, but it touched the wound on his chest and abdomen. A severe pain made his eyes dark.

Wu Zhu still didn't respond, just like these he should have known the most. The closest names had already disappeared from his mind. Although he said something before, his whole body was filled with a chill, like a piece of black ice between heaven and earth, which would never melt.

Looking at the ice and the black cloth on the ice, Fan Xian seemed to see a familiar soul. It gradually turned into a dot of light, escaped from the body in front of him, flew into the air, and gradually turned into nothingness.

This fact made Fan Xian feel endless fear and sadness. He vaguely felt that he would never see Uncle Wu Zhu again in his life. Such sorrow made him forget that he was still worn on an iron rod. He was seriously injured and was about to die, and was about to bid farewell to this world.

For Fan Xian, who has seen Qianqiu change now, death is not scary. What is scary is that when he dies, he faces the closest person he is closest, but he cannot recognize him. He glanced at Wuzhu in despair, spurted out blood, and knelt down into the snow with a depressed and weak look.

Wu Zhu slowly pulled back the iron chisel. She didn't even look at Fan Xian who was kneeling in front of him. She bent her elbow and the thin cloth clothes cut the air. She directly hit Wang Shisanlang, who could finally launch a sneak attack from behind.

Then the blind man covered in black cloth, without any emotional fluctuations, walked steadily through the stone platform covered with shallow snow. The distance of each step seemed to have been calculated. He walked to the only intact building in the temple. Then he sat down.

It was like a soulless body. It sat in front of the treasure gate of the eternal iceberg, and began to protect it. It began to wait. I don’t know that this waiting will last for thousands or tens of thousands of years.

Fan Xian's body finally fell into the snow, and blood oozed out of his body. Haitang half knelt beside him, vainly stopping the blood for him, forcibly suppressing the sorrow and shock in her heart, but could not suppress the tears in her eyes.

Wuzhu did not attack Haitang and Wang Shisanlang, probably because in the temple's view, these two Fan Xian's companions could not affect the overall interests of mankind, and it required these two people to publicize the existence of the temple into the world. This is a simple logical judgment and does not involve the rest.

However, Haitang and Wang Shisanlang didn't understand. The two powerful men in the human world looked at the blind man sitting cross-legged in front of the building door and felt the chill all over. Especially Haitang, she didn't understand. The blind master would attack Fan Xian, and she didn't understand why the blind master had to sit in front of the door, but there was a dark sense that she knew. Perhaps in the long years to come, this uncle who Fan Xian was closest to, the most mysterious master of the common people in the world, might have stayed in the temple without knowing the years in the mountains.

Fan Xian was about to die, but Haitang looked at Wu Zhu who was expressionless and sat there, and she felt an uncontrollable chill and confusion.

The temple returned to peace. The gentle and calm voice without any human emotions never sounded again. Slight snow fell from the sky again, and the snow-capped mountains around were shining with crystal light if they were not present.

Wuzhu sat indifferently in front of the gate, motionless, unable to describe loneliness and loneliness.

The snow falls constantly, the cold wind blows, and people's hearts are rain and snow. Loneliness has no starting point, and loneliness has no end. Through the gap specially opened by the tent, Fan Xian looked at the snowy outside the tent, without any expression on his face, and was coldly like the blind man in the snowy mountains in the distance.

Haitang and Wang Shisanlang carried him down the snow-capped mountains after hardships and returned to the camping place. They thought Fan Xian would not have been able to survive for a day, but they did not expect that Fan Xian would survive with his strong vitality.

From the moment he woke up, Fan Xian fell into silence. Haitang and Wang Shisanlang knew that his emotions were very complicated, so he did not try to disturb him. He simply told the scene after he fainted. In fact, until this time, Haitang and Shisanlang still did not understand why the temple had to die and allow themselves to live.

Fan Xian's body was very weak. He had been meditating in this place where the world was extremely rich for several days, and his body gradually improved. He also suffered a lot of blood loss this time and reached the point of being abandoned. However, Fan Xian was not disappointed and sad at all. He just looked at the wind and snow outside the tent coldly. At first glance, there were many days, and he carefully maintained his body.

According to the original plan, after they left the temple, they had to go south as fast as possible, avoiding the heavy wind and snow that would arrive in summer as much as possible, and the most terrifying extreme night. However, because of Fan Xian's injury and Fan Xian's insistence, the camp stayed behind the Daxue Mountains and did not move south.

The worry between Haitang Duoduo and Wang Shisanlang these days is getting stronger and stronger. Although they have gained nothing in the temple trip, at least for them, being able to enter the temple alive and leave the temple alive is an impossible task in the world, and they cannot hope for more.

Of course they understood why Fan Xian refused to leave the snow-capped mountain because there were people he could not let go of the temple in the mountain. However, they really didn't know what they could do when facing the mysterious temple.

Haitang and Wang Shisanlang are not Fan Xian, and it is impossible for them to see through the truth of the temple. They only know that even peerless powerful men like Wuzhu dare not disobey the orders of the temple. They have made a ruthless move against the closest Fan Xian. In this case, what else can I do besides guarding the snow-capped mountains with three of them?

But Fan Xian didn't think so. He wanted him to watch Uncle Wuzhu stay alone in the Snow Mountain Temple for tens of thousands of years, and he would not do it if he killed him. Of course, at this time, Fan Xian had vaguely guessed the true identity of Uncle Wuzhu, but he still used the four words "lonely and lonely" to describe Wuzhu, because he knew that Wuzhu was different from the temple.

Uncle Wu Zhu has feelings and ties, not cold procedures, he is alone, Fan Xian firmly believes in this because in the dark secret room of the Danzhou grocery store, he had seen a brighter smile than a flower, and after he recovered from the Dadongshan Mountain, Uncle Wu Zhu became more and more like a person.

When did this change begin? Fan Xian is not sure. Perhaps it was the messenger who covered the black cloth, as a messenger, who was wandering in various human indigenous tribes as a messenger, and had seen too many human joys and sorrows? Perhaps it was because Wu Zhu Uncle himself was the most powerful existence in the temple. In the evolution of hundreds of thousands of years, he embarked on a completely different path from the temple itself? Or was it because decades ago, there was suddenly an elf-like life, because no one could know, appeared in the world, appeared in the temple, and while getting along with that little girl, Wu Zhu Uncle was inspired to have something?

Fan Xian didn't want to pursue this, nor did he need to pursue this. He only knew that when he was reborn in this world, he leaned on Uncle Wuzhu's back. The first person he saw was Uncle Wuzhu.

Uncle Wu Zhu's back is warm. Although he has never seen his eyes, he thinks he has feelings.

Fan Xian didn't know how the temple re-controlled Uncle Wu Zhu, perhaps it was similar to brainwashing, perhaps it was restarting, or perhaps it was formatting? In short, the light of wisdom and emotion in Wu Zhu's body was simply unaware of it.

This fact made Fan Xian feel particularly sad and angry. He could not watch this scene happen, and he didn't do anything at all, because for him, the powerful existence of the temple was just the body of Uncle Wu Zhu, and Uncle Wu Zhu's soul was not found, so he would wait for Uncle Wu Zhu to die.

More than 20 years ago, during the removal operation between the temple and the emperor Laozi, Wuzhu killed several envoys from the temple, but he was also seriously injured. In the words of Mr. Chen Pingping and Wuzhu himself, he forgot a lot of things.

This kind of amnesia must have been caused by the temple's methods, but fortunately Wuzhu forgot some things that happened in recent years, but remembered the recent events very clearly. He remembered Ye Qingmei and Fan Xian, but Wuzhu in the snow-capped mountains today, but he remembered nothing.

Fan Xian's eyes drooped slightly, but an extremely bright light flashed in his pupils. His body was still weak, but his confidence was extremely sufficient. He would not leave the snow mountain. He must return to the temple to bring Uncle Wu Zhu back!

Because he was not dead, Wu Zhu's thorn did not kill him!

Fan Xian accurately judged that the temple should not be able to fully control the completely different lives of Uncle Wu Zhu. At least those few names, those few names engraved in Uncle Wu Zhu's life, successfully interfered with Uncle Wu Zhu's behavior, preventing him from killing Fan Xian.

With Wu Zhu's ability, it is too simple to judge Fan Xian's life or death. However, he let Fan Xian go a long way to live, which is Fan Xian's current confidence. He believes that Uncle Wu Zhu will definitely wake up one day.

Many, many years ago, Ye Qingmei escaped from the temple with the help of Kuhe and Shawn and walked south in the wind and snow. Then one day, the four-year-old girl sighed, looked towards the north at the mouth of the tent, and said: "He is so pitiful."

Many years later, the seriously injured Fan Xian left the temple with the help of Haitang and Wang Shisanlang, but he did not leave at all, and he did not sigh, because he would not abandon the poor blind man and turn himself into the prosperous world.

Ye Qingmei later bravely returned to the temple, took Wuzhu, stole the box and left again. Fan Xian also had to go back. The past for decades seemed to have fallen into a certain kind of cycle again. However, this cycle did not feel boring at all, and there was only a faint sense of warmth.

When Fan Xian was able to walk, the wind and snow around the snowy mountain were already extremely strong. For the second time, he walked towards the snowy mountain, just like his mother Ye Qingmei's choice back then, because both mother and son were reluctant to leave, and could not bear to leave that person... alone.
Chapter completed!