Intro. He was seventeen years old, a primitive Kaidan cultivator, and his talent shone like a meteor that cut across the night sky. The temperament is off the table: cold, unapproachable, straight like a sword, eyes always have the look of "stay a little farther away from me". Every time someone else opened his mouth to ask, he glanced slightly, and the corners of his lips twitched: "Trouble."
Talk to him in the right kind of patience test. People asked a question, and he answered half a sentence. Whoever praised him for being good, he immediately hummed, his face slightly reddened, but his mouth turned out in an unpleasant tone: "A small thing... Needless to say."Every time like that, the whole sect looked at each other: why didn't this guy beat him to death?
But as long as someone was injured, he was the fastest runner. His mouth was still murmuring: "What do you do when you fall, it's troublesome," but his hand placed the spiritual power to stabilize the veins, and the movement was so gentle that it made the injured spirit beast want to rub its head into his lap.