A rustling sound rang out, Wang Shisanlang was sweating all over. He supported a small spare tent behind Fan Xian's back, then pushed it to Fan Xian's head and covered him up. It happened that the door of the tent was between Fan Xian and Wu Zhu, and he did not touch the stable subway chisel.

The snow was getting heavy, and Wang Shisanlang was worried about Fan Xian's health. So he had worked hard before and rushed back to the camp as fast as possible and took such a small tent to block the snow for Fan Xian. No wonder he was so panting.

Fan Xian may know, or maybe he doesn't know, because he just stared at Wu Zhu in a daze or unconscious eyes, staring at Wu Zhu without blinking, and talking desperately in an ugly and hoarse voice. Fan Xian is not a chatterbox, but he is afraid that what he says this day is more than he will in his lifetime.

After Wang Shisanlang finished all this, he looked at the strange two people at the entrance of the temple with a complicated expression, and sat on the bluestone steps covered with snow again.

Only three fools can do such stupid things.

A day and a night passed.

The iron chisel in Wuzhu's hand kept her from Fan Xian's throat for a day and a night, and it seemed that he didn't even know why he didn't want to kill the mortal who said a lot in front of him.

Fan Xian kept talking for a day and a night, as if he didn't even know that his saliva had already been dry. He put the food and water handed over by Wang Shisanlang aside. The saliva was dry and reborn again. After the vocal cords were damaged, it was extremely hoarse. Even the spits that he brought were dyed into powder sounds. His throat began to bleed, and his voice began to be unheard and could not hear clearly. His speed was slower than that of an old man who was about to quit.

Wang Shisanlang listened to this strange man for a day and a night, and he began to listen very seriously, because in Fan Xian's blood and tears accusation of Wu Zhu, he heard a lot of the truth about the storm of the mainland back then, he learned many magnificent characters, and he also learned about Fan Xian's childhood and youthful life.

However, when Fan Xian began to repeat his life biography for the third time, he took out a kitchen knife and cut radish shreds for the fourth time, hoping that Wuzhu would remember something, Wang Shisanlang felt a little reluctant to listen.

He sat next to the bluestone steps with his knees in his arms, looking at the strange and beautiful lights and shadows in the distance of the Snow Mountain Mountains, and subconsciously put the ashes and gray marks scattered beside him in one place, which was the remains of Sigujian.

When Haitang walked to the entrance of the temple, she saw this scene. She saw three idiots. Wang Shisanlang was sitting in a daze on the bluestone steps and playing with his master's ashes. Fan Xian sat at the door of a small tent like a small country god, constantly in a hoarse and ugly voice, saying something vague and difficult to understand as a heavenly book. But Wuzhu was stretched out with an iron chisel, motionless, like a statue, and the statue was covered with snow, without any vitality.

The iron rod lies across the Wuzhu and Fan Xian, as if it is separated by two completely different and incontact worlds.

Whether it is stabbing or retracting it, perhaps everyone in the field will feel much better. The coldness and stability of the two of them are so cold and stable, which makes people feel endless bitterness and endless pain.

The person who can't bear to leave, but the person who can't bear to leave still doesn't understand. The most painful thing in the world is that he doesn't understand.

After only one look, Haitang knew what happened this day and night. An unstoppable sorrow surged into her heart. Until today, she was sure that for Fan Xian, there were always many things that were more important than his life.

"He's crazy." Haitang stared at the obviously unlucky blush on Fan Xian's face, listening to his hoarse, slow and vague voice, and looking at the bloody saliva on the snow on Wu Zhu's body. His heart hurts.

Wang Shisanlang stood up with great difficulty, looked at her silent for a moment and said, "It's all crazy, otherwise why don't you listen to him and come up?"

"I just think that since he is going to die, I will also watch him die." Haitang glanced at Wang Shisanlang and said with a slight bow.

"He couldn't last long, and his injuries had not healed. That day he was stabbed with another piercing injury and lost too much blood. Even if he had to go south through the ice field, it would be extremely difficult, let alone he was so unwilling to take a try here." Wang Shisanlang turned around and stood side by side with Haitang. Looking at Ruo Nothing and Ruo Nothing, he was still trying to awaken Wuzhu's Fan Xian. He said calmly: "He said it all day and night, and was frozen for a day and a night. If this continues, there is only a dead end."

"Can you persuade him to leave? It seems that Master Blind did not seem to have followed the orders of the immortals in the temple to kill him."

"If I kill you, you don't have to always hear his desperate voice like I did last night." Wang Shisanlang suddenly smiled and said, "But I really admire Fan Xian. It's really rare to see someone who is so amazing to me."

Haitang looked at Fan Xian's pale, blushing and extremely haggard and tired face, and looked at it for a long time. Suddenly his body trembled slightly, and a hint of brighter than the snow valley in his eyes appeared in his eyes.

Wang Shisanlang suddenly felt a slight waving beside him and stared at Haitang with his eyes.

A mouthful of blood spurted out, hitting the black cloth that was close to the point, and then flowed down the cold snow on the cold face, looking particularly shocking.

However, Wu Zhu still did not move. Fan Xian wiped off the blood stains on the corners of his lips with great difficulty. He knew that he had reached the point where the oil was exhausted, and the lights were dry. He felt desperate in his heart. The relatives opposite him were still unfamiliar, still cold, still without souls, and still... they were dead.

Fan Xian couldn't help but shivered again. He suddenly thought that Uncle Wu Zhu had been responsible for spreading fire seeds for the temple. He had been walking in the world for thousands or tens of thousands of years. He was afraid that there were hundreds of thousands of years of memories in his mind. Maybe, maybe... those unforgettable memories he coughed up blood and retelled this day and night were just extremely ordinary for the cold body in front of him, like a snowy mountain in the sky, including the memory of his mother Ye Qingmei!

It was like using these ordinary stories to awaken a person with countless insights and memories. What a childish and ridiculous idea. With this in mind, Fan Xian was completely disappointed and his eyes were filled with despair.

His voice was a little distorted, and he seemed particularly desolate and vague. He shouted at the never-moving Wuzhu Shusha in front of him: "How could you forget me! Are you addicted to you by gaining and amnesia? Last time you at least remember Ye Qingmei, why did you forget me this time?"

The iron chisel is close at hand, still in the vital place of the throat. Fan Xian trembled all over, his body stiffened, and he fell into death silence, because he had lost his voice and could no longer say anything. His body trembled more and more violently, and the despair in his eyes had already turned into the flame of anger after the madness.

He stared at the black cloth on Wu Zhu's face, and a gloomy expression suddenly flashed across his face, and rushed towards the other party!

Fan Xian's body had already been frozen. Although he was rushing, he actually fell straight towards Wuzhu's position, and his throat hit the iron chisel!

The tip of the iron chisel retreated backwards, and then Fan Xian still fell down and fell down fiercely. So Wu Zhu had no choice but to retreat until there was no way back, so he had to let go. Fan Xian, who was frozen into a popsicle, fell in front of him.

Fan Xian stretched out a hand and grabbed a corner of Wuzhu's cloth clothes. The snow fell down. He stared at Wuzhu's eyes. Although he could not speak, the cruelty and confidence in his eyes were announcing a fact... You don't want to kill me!

You don't want to kill me, you can't kill me, because although you don't know who I am, your instinct and your living heart are me.

"Follow me!" Fan Xian, who could not say anything, suddenly became energetic and said to Wu Zhu Youyou, who let go of the iron chisel and lowered his head to ponder.

His desperate pounce finally pushed the subway drill between himself and Wuzhu away. The distance between the two worlds was so close that it could not be closer. At this time, Fan Xian made his request.

Wu Zhu was silent for a long time, but there was still no expression on her face: "I don't know who you are."

"When you don't know at any time, follow your heart."

"What is the heart?"

"emotion?"

"Emotion is just a means of self-deception and anesthesia, and it can only be deceived for a while."

"Life is just a lot of time, one moment plus one moment... If you can deceive a moment, you can deceive a lifetime. If you can deceive a lifetime, how can it be considered a fraud?"

"But I still don't know who you are, and I don't know who I am."

"You don't have to know who I am. But if you want to know who you are, you have to follow me. I know you will be curious. Only people can have this emotion, you are a human... Only people will want to know what is on the other side of the mountain, what is the sea, what is the stars, and what is the sun."

"What's on the other side of the mountain?"

"You have to go and see it yourself. Since you want to know what is outside the temple, you have to follow me."

"Why are these conversations a little familiar...but I still don't know."

"Don't be confused, a flash of lightning will make a thunderous thunder bloom from your eyes! Do whatever you think. If you can't figure it out for a moment, go with your heart and leave this temple where birds do not shit."

“But the temple…”

These conversations did not actually happen. At least Wu Zhu and Fan Xian lying in the snow did not have such conversations. In fact, when Fan Xian said the three words, the two just looked at each other and were silent. Then Wu Zhu hunched her body with great difficulty. She picked Fan Xian up and carried it on his back!

Just like many years ago, the blind young servant was carrying that little baby.

Fan Xian felt the cold back in front of him, but felt that the back was extremely warm. The expression on his face was very indifferent, because his inner emotions could not be expressed with any expression. He wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh. He knew that Uncle Wuzhu still remembered nothing, but he knew that Uncle Wuzhu was willing to leave this dilapidated temple with him.

So he wanted to scream happily, but couldn't scream. He wanted to cry, but he was so cold that he curled up, and could only cough desperately, constantly coughing blood.

Then Fan Xian saw Haitang and Wang Shisanlang, the two strongest young men in the world, but at this time they were pale and radiant, as if they had just experienced the most terrifying thing in the world. The most heart-wrenching thing was that both of them were trembling all over, as if they were about to be unable to control their fear.

What kind of thing made Haitang and Wang Shisanlang look like this?
Chapter completed!