In his own memory maze, Li Molin saw his childhood memories. As an observer, he watched his parents argue with a blank expression. The arguments never stopped, day after day. He never knew what they were arguing about. He only remembered that after each argument, his mother would silently shed tears, looking extremely sad and helpless, without any trace of her former high spirits.

Afterwards, his mother left the Demon Realm and never returned. The little boy waited and waited at the edge of the Demon Realm, waiting for her to come back.

The wind, carrying sand and stones, swept across the desolate land. Li Molin stood on the barren ground, his face filled with sorrow as he gazed into the distance, at the Xuanyuan Barrier.

At that moment, a little boy who was only eight or nine years old stood in front of the Xuanyuan Barrier, gazing intently southward at the lush vegetation beyond the barrier.

At this age, he seemed to have already cultivated demonic techniques. The young boy hesitated as he reached out his small hand towards the Xuanyuan Barrier. His hand paused for a long time in front of the barrier before tentatively touching it.

With a sharp "swoosh," a sharp sword light sliced ​​through his fingertip. He groaned, frowned, and withdrew his hand, looking down at the deep wound and gushing blood on his fingertip, his eyes filled with sorrow.

The little boy waited like this day after day, until three years later, when he waited until dark for the last time. When he returned home, his still young figure looked particularly lonely. After that, he never came back here again.

As Li Molin watched himself grow up, his heart gradually hardened as he cultivated demonic arts every day, and his expression became cold and sinister, rarely smiling.

Until he met a woman in white in the dense forest leading to Fox Plains, his heart gradually warmed as he looked at her mischievousness and cunning, and at her darting eyes. He also smiled more often.

The scene before me is the most profound memory deep in my mind: sunlight, dappled through the lush foliage, falls on a man and a woman standing opposite each other. The man is dressed in black, with a tall and imposing figure. The woman is dressed in white, her small face held in arrogance.

Li Molin watched the scene in silence, his gaze lingering.

A moment later, everything before his eyes shifted and became chaotic. The rapid rotation of the scene made him squint. When the scene finally settled again, he was in a cave.

The cave was filled with the aura of Chi You's blood. A man in black stood solemnly, his raised hand clenched into a fist, blood dripping from between his fingers. He swore a loud oath, and as soon as he finished speaking, a woman in white immediately stepped forward, took out a handkerchief, and hurriedly bandaged his hand.

"Here, let me bandage your wound. Look at you, you're bleeding so much..."

Li Molin watched this scene from afar, and his feet moved unconsciously. He slowly walked to the side of the man in black and stood next to him. He saw that the woman in white was diligently bandaging the man in black's wounds while constantly giving him meaningful glances.

The woman was much shorter than Li Molin. When he looked down, he could see a sly smile on her lips and her eyes, like black gemstones, darting around, clearly plotting something mischievous.

A look of extreme sorrow appeared on Li Molin's face. Who knew how much he missed Liuli, the mischievous and adorable Liuli? He wished she could come back, even if... even if she returned to her former self and still only loved Shichan, as long as she came back...

After bandaging the man's wound, the woman took two steps back, stood obediently with her hands behind her back, and stared expectantly at the man in black.

"Liuli..." Li Molin called softly, took two steps forward, and suddenly opened his arms to hug the obedient woman standing there.

However, whether he was an illusion or the woman was an illusion, he simply passed through the woman's body, stumbled a bit, and stood behind her, tightly hugging himself.

Li Molin remained motionless in that position, his hands, which were wrapped around his shoulders, tightened little by little until his knuckles turned white. His eyes lowered, his gaze filled with sorrow and loneliness.