Matters Of The Copy

Lifting my head to gaze into the vast void, I bend down to gather the stars from the river of the Milky Way

In the nine heavens, golden light radiates, and for eight hundred miles, the purple haze gathers in worship.

...

This matter must begin with Wu Mingkong, who, after maintaining a low profile for eighteen years, took a kitchen knife and, accompanied by a dog, killed the BOSS of the first instance dungeon.