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In the 41st year of Dayan, the first snow in the cold winter fell for a whole day.

Heavy snow presses on pine branches.

The wild beasts and ghosts in the forest seemed to be afraid of the sudden cold. As the night approached, there were no birds and beasts appearing everywhere, and no roar echoed in it.

There is no moonlight in the night sky.

But the earth is covered with silver.

Ali went down the mountain and came to a remote village ten miles below the mountain, Jiming Village.

The village is not big, and there are only about a hundred people in the house that is staggered without rules and regulations.

The villagers here rest at sunrise and sunset, never knowing what the world is, let alone what grudges are. The legend of swords and swords does not exist in the conversation after dinner. What they care about is that the third child of the Zhang family lost a rabbit that was kept in captivity yesterday.

I was accidentally caught by Wang's neighbor as wild game...

The first snowfall in Dayan in the 41st winter.

At night, a woman in black came from the rivers and lakes quietly.

The woman looked cold, close to the ruthless indifference.

The white snow was dyed between her eyebrows and hair, and she held a short blade in her hand.

Ali is the deadly assassin in the shogunate of Yan Nanfei, the ninth prince of the Great Yan Empire, and is the elite among Nanfei's guest seats. Since she was determined to follow her sister's footsteps, she received harsh and painful training, she was exposed to darkness and blood. Therefore,

For her, killing is the simplest thing she is good at, and it is even simpler than eating and sleeping.

Sometimes, Yan Nanfei even spent more time on Ali, who had been weak and sick since childhood, than Ling'er.

After being ordered to take away the blade and be a personal maid next to Xueer, Ling'er always thought that Ah Li carried all the luck of her sisters in this life, bathed in the gentle wind in the bright sunshine, and lived a life of a female worker planting, cutting, cutting, and embroidery. She was dancing and writing.

.

Little did he know that what Ali, who had grown up, wanted the most was to welcome the storm of the sun and snow with his sister.

She is no longer the little girl who would cry every time she was storm.

In the darkness of those years, she stepped on the blood of the corpse mountain to the peak, and finally became a visitor to Nanfei at the same level as her sister.

She was once a poor man begging on the roadside.

Later, I met her benefactor who made her reborn.

So she is no longer a good person.

She never considered herself a good person.

She is cold.

I was indifferent to this world that once made her and her sister unable to survive.

In addition to his sister and Yan Nanfei, who is regarded as a benefactor, and perhaps a scholar, Ali's eyes can be like a dead soul under a knife!

...

Ah Li was wearing black clothes and stood outside the window holding a cold short blade.

The house consists of three generations of grandparents and grandchildren.

An old woman over the age of seventy, a docile daughter-in-law, and a naughty grandson who is only about ten years old.

The pillar of my family joined the army and had no news for a year.

The sensible daughter-in-law thought about her mother-in-law's clothes being thin. When it snows tomorrow, she would take her children to the county to add a cotton coat to her mother-in-law.

If the child’s father is not at home, he should always do his best to his men.

The daughter-in-law cleans up the dishes.

The old lady was leaning on a cane to boil water around the fire.

The ten-year-old grandson saw Xue and mischievously opened the door, trying to play with Xue while his mother was not paying attention.

The child stood in front of the door with a childish look on his face and looked at his beautiful and strange aunt in black.

"Mom, I have a pretty aunt."

The little girl who was busy cleaning up the dishes, chopsticks, tables and chairs hurriedly walked out.

Then I saw the child lying in the snow in front of the door.

There was no dry blood on the child's face.

It seemed that the little girl who was bolt from the blue was not as sad as she was, and the short blade with blood in Ali's hand was already placed on the little girl's neck.

"There is a Hongye Mountain Temple ten miles away. If you don't want to die, go and ask the people in the temple to go down the mountain."

...

There was no tragic cry in Jiming Village late at night, but many people fell quietly.

Descend in front of the door, in the snow.

Ali was as calm as usual.

With light steps on the snow without traces, she wandered around the village like a ghost.

The short blade in her hand seemed to be endless with blood, falling into the snow bit by bit, like her footsteps.

Deadly steps.

...

It's late at night.

Dozens of people who came from the snow suddenly appeared at the foot of the originally quiet Hongye Mountain.

They are all the people of Jiming Village.

Just a few hours ago, a short blade washed the village bloodied.

Some people die of children, some die of husbands, some die of wives, some die of brothers, and some die of parents.

They all lost their loved ones.

I lost my life inexplicably under the short blade that was not caring about.

They met the devil.

A devil wearing a black suit and beautiful appearance.

They begged at the foot of the mountain, kneeling in the shrill cold storm, begging the people in the temple to go down the mountain and ask the living Buddha to save him.

...

The night is dark, the snow in all fields.

A bonfire was set off at the village head.

I don’t know whether it was smelling the blood that dissipated with the wind or the bonfire burning fire, which woke many wolf dogs in the village.

The barking of dogs comes one after another.

More and more villagers were awakened by the strange noises in the middle of the night.

Ah Li sat by the bonfire.

The fiery red light reflects the beautiful but cold face.

Those beautiful and bright eyes stared at the bonfire in a daze, and no one knew what they were thinking.

The short blade has been washed by snow water, and the blade that lies across the knees is still extremely sharp.

The sound of footsteps in the distance came into my ears, hurried and messy.

As the elite of Nanfei guest occupants, Ali has the ability to listen to the sound and distinguish people. Amid the panic footsteps, there was the silent steps of a practitioner stepping on the snow without traces.

But she didn't stretch her eyebrows.

Because she knew that the people invited by the villagers were not the ones she was waiting for.

Villagers came surrounded by the old Zen master of Hongye Temple.

Zen Master Hongye looked at the female donor who was still a guest on the mountain not long ago, and felt the surging murderous intent that gradually climbed around Ah Li as the bonfire became more and more intense. The old Zen Master wearing a Buddha's robe and robe folded his hands together late at night

, pronounced the Buddha's name.

"I am merciful to you. Don't add any karma to killing."

Ali never believed in Buddhism, let alone the compassion of Buddha.

When she was young, she had no food to fill her stomach, had no clothes to cover her body, and had no place to rely on her to have a clear understanding of the world.

The heaven is unkind and treats all things as straw dogs.

Can all things have benevolence?

Ali Youliang's eyes showed sarcasm: "The Zen master is good at saving people, can he know how to save himself?"

Ah Li's murderous intent has reached its peak.

The north wind is getting worse and worse.

There were even some slight cracks in the Buddha's robes and robes on the old Zen master's body.

Zen Master Hongye sighed in his heart.

If I can save these innocent people behind me, if I don’t go to hell, who will go to hell!

The Zen master lies in the snow, like a Bodhisattva lowering his eyebrows.

"Amitabha……"

...

It was late at night.

The villagers who dared not disobey Ali's orders carried the old Zen master's cold body to the foot of Hongye Mountain.

Zen Master Hongye passed away.

The monks on the mountain went down the mountain like a tide.

The sound of bells and drums came from the Drum Tower in Nanshan, spreading in this snowy and quiet world, as if the Buddha's voice was singing, sending the old Zen master's soul back to the west.

Under the light of the green demon hand, the scholar who was obviously much thinner after his cultivation was gone, went down the steps.

Li Xingyun looked at the Zen Master Buddha who passed away and blamed himself for being heartbroken.

He asked the monks in the temple to take care of the innocent people and the old Zen master's Dharma body and Buddha body. Accompanied by the Qing Demon Hand, he walked the snow-capped mountain road for ten miles and walked to Jiming Village.