"Let's go today."

Ji Jiu said to Yimo.

Emo nodded. He always nodded, always agreed, no matter what decision he made, he was not surprised, and he never objected.

Yimo belonged to him, and Shen Jue also belonged to the first Shen Qingxuan, but not now.

Go, don't look back. In his short and long three lives, in the end, only three dead bones were left, and he could not tell what was right or wrong. Maybe God is right, and people always seek a clear distinction between right and wrong, and they get into obstacles;

They were all right, and even he himself thought he was right.

But he couldn't see his son again.

He couldn't see him saying goodbye to himself again in the form of a ghost. Time and time again, nothing but three, he can't come for a fourth time and leave him with his own forgetting again. And this time, even Yimo no longer remembers him.

That was cruel, he always gave him a home and took it down with his own hands.

He can't be so cruel to him, he can't do this.

Picking up the Mengpo soup, Ji Jiu finally confronted Nanheng Daozhang

"Tell him that the affection between father and son should be exhausted, and let him go his own way."

Meng Po Tang is colorless, originally a bowl of clear water, with sweet, bitter, bitter, sour and salty flavors in the mouth. It is sweeter than honey, more bitter than Huanglian, more intoxicating than the strongest wine, more intoxicating than the greenest wine. Plums are more sour, more heartbreaking than all the tears in the world. It is so wonderful, just drink it, and all love, hate and sorrow will be wiped out. It is more fascinating than death, death is passing away, and it is rebirth.

You can let go of everything and start a new life.

They drank a bowl of soup together, crossed the Naihe Bridge with the ghost, and boarded the reincarnation platform.

never see again.

Farewell to the two ghosts, Nan Heng easily found the person he was looking for, told him the whole story, and didn't hide it from him. He didn't intend to hide it from him at first, this is not a shameful thing, but he didn't intend to be so refreshing, and he was a little surprised.

"Let's go." Shen Jue said calmly, as if he had already understood it, "I don't actually want to send it."

Nanheng Daozhang "There is nothing you care about here, come with me."

Shen Jue stood for a while and nodded.

"Tomorrow. I've never visited the underworld before, and I want to see more."

"tomorrow."

Nan Heng was rarely good at talking, so he let him hang out by himself, and sat back at the table by the Wangchuan River, waiting for "tomorrow" to come.

Shen Jue drifted along the road, not knowing where to go.

Everything in the gray vision is only black and white, the road is black, the lantern is white, the tower is black, and the house is white. The white and miserable houses were neatly parked on both sides of the road, and the same white miserable lanterns were hung, with the word "Lien" written on them, as if they were folded out of paper.

There is no sound when your feet are on the ground, and the ground is as soft as a swamp. If you stand on it for too long, it will collapse. No one knows where it will fall, and probably no ghost wants to know.

The ghosts residing in the underworld are temporarily unable to reincarnate, and can only wait for the day when it is their turn.

The ghost town is truly silent, there is no birdsong and insects, there is no wind and leaves shaking, it belongs to the silence after death.

There was a vague voice from somewhere, and Shen Jue followed the voice to find it. All the way was an empty street, a miserable house, and a lantern that didn't move. Shen Jue walked for a long time, and the road was winding and long. , as if it would never end, the identical houses and lanterns kept going backwards and reappearing, as if they were always walking in the same place.

After walking for a long time, he no longer cared about how long he had to walk, he just drifted all the way, turned when he turned, and then continued to move forward.

Just like his more than five hundred years of time, it was pointlessly spent on the endless road.

I don't know where I heard a story. It is said that a young man's parents were killed by an enemy, so he learned a good martial arts and held his father's knife on the road to seek revenge. , did not stop once, and went all the way until I could hardly remember who I was.

When he finally found the enemy, he was already gray on the temples, but the old enemy was digging the mountain, to cut a road to the lush for the villagers. They looked at each other, and the enemy recognized the one in his hand. Knife, no arguing and no running away.

Instead of killing him, he put down the rusted knife and picked up the long hammer to gouge the mountain with the enemy.

They never said a word, and waved their hammer and chisel in silence until the enemy died in front of him. He buried his bones and did not return to his hometown, but continued to dig this majestic green hill until he died.

It's an inexplicable story. Shen Jue thought about it, not knowing why she suddenly remembered it, but things in this world don't make sense, just like the young man who seeks vengeance and the murderer who chiseled mountains.

The road under my feet finally stopped. It turned out to be a stage, and a female ghost dressed in plain clothes was singing on the stage, and the mournful lyrics ran through the whole city.

"Hey-ya-ya-yahand-in-hand with the childish son returning to the hospital at night-no one in the empty room in the cold moon-sorrow-sorrow-sorrow."

The dense ghosts under the stage didn't make a sound, they just raised their heads and looked at the female ghost on the stage, thinking about the old things in life.

Shen Jue stood for a moment, then turned and left, not knowing how long she had been floating in the alleyway with white walls and black roads, and another lyric came mournfully.

Alas - it turns out I - only now know that I was wrong.