Tianqiong Peak.
Snow, like goose feathers, falls from the sky and flies in the wind.
Falling on the ground, falling on the tree, falling in every place of the Kunlun area, wrapped the Kunlun peaks and silver.
A green robe, a footstep of snow, accompanied by the sound of wind and snow, slowly sounded at this peak.
White hair, flying behind him.
At the ten feet of Xia Zhirou's tomb, Han Xiu's footsteps stopped.
Looking at this tombstone, in the eyes of Han Xiu, it seems that there is a woman watching him.
The woman's light blue dress, with a playful smile on her nice face, said happily.
'Han Wood, you are finally here. '
Han Xiu, his body trembled fiercely.
After a hundred years, his ears, once again heard this voice, even if... That is his own auditory hallucination.
She calls him The Wood.
