All the ghosts moved, and finally faced the direction of the stele. Countless ghosts bowed to the stone tablet three times in unison.

Tang Dynasty tapped his feet and jumped directly onto the stele. He thought that since the ghost was interested in the stele, the problem must be with the stele. At the moment, it seems that digging up the surrounding dirt has alarmed the spirits, so there must be another way. But just as he stepped on the stone stele, an accident appeared. He felt that the whole world had changed, and the ghosts were still those ghosts, but he knew that the world had changed. Because the sling wombat hanging on him is gone.

Just as Tang Chao was thinking about what had happened, the whole world in front of him shattered. Suddenly, he saw the world in front of him crumble, dissolved into countless pieces, and vanished with the wind. Then the black world in front of him lit up again, and he had the feeling of opening his eyes. But the reappearance of the world in front of him froze him. Dim, desolate, with a kind of desolation, everywhere the battle flags covered the entire hillside with corpses.

The Tang Dynasty found that he appeared on a battlefield, with a broken body and broken weapons, everything revealed a kind of tragedy. What made him even more unexpected was that he still couldn't control his body, and he entered the dream again. And this time, it was still the monk Jin Cicada who was possessed. The difference is that this time Jin Cicada held the upper body, wearing a shabby robe, and the lower body was also a shabby trousers that were worn out under the calves, barefoot, and holding a bowl in his hand.

Jin Cicada walked slowly on the battlefield, looking at the corpses with compassion, and every time he reached in front of a corpse, he reached out and dipped it in the bowl, and gently popped out a drop of water on the corpse. Then he sat down slowly and began to chant in front of the corpse. After a few verses, the corpse slowly disintegrated, and an illusory figure floated out of the scattered corpse, bowed to him, and flew away. The golden cicada did the same to the next corpse.

The Tang Dynasty found that this battlefield was very vast and covered with corpses, but it began to change from the position of the golden cicada. There were corpses strewn in front of him, and behind him were only broken weapons. In a trance, it seems that a second has passed, and it seems that ten thousand years have passed. The lonely figure kept sitting down and getting up again, acting a bit like an old man in the twilight. Jin Cicada finally turned his head once, because there was no body in front of him anymore. Looking at the empty battlefield, he picked up a broken gun and walked barefoot into the distance. Along the way, he trekked through mountains and rivers, and whenever he saw a corpse, he would sit down and chant the sutras, and after the corpse disappeared, he set out on the journey again.

Finally, he saw a wide wooden bridge in the distance, but in front of the wooden bridge there were countless ghosts, who looked around in confusion, but they refused to step on the wooden bridge. The wide wooden bridge was filled with only the occasional ghost, and some had already stepped on it and then returned. And on the other side of the bridge, on a dilapidated tea stall, sat an old lady, helplessly looking across the river. There is also a little girl at the tea stall, constantly pouring tea from the teapot for passing guests. After drinking tea, the guests put down the tea bowls and walked into the city silently.

Jin Cicada walked to the wooden bridge with the broken barrel of the gun, but did not go up. He turned his head to look at the crowd crowded on either side of the bridge, and he saw a variety of expressions, but no laughter. He was silent for a long time and stepped onto the wooden bridge. After crossing the wooden bridge, he came to the tea stall. But the little girl pouring the tea looked at him strangely, and stared at his bare feet in a daze.

"Little donor, why don't you pour tea for the poor monk?" Jin Chan asked.

"You have feet. The little girl said strangely.

"Everyone has a ......," Jin Chan said, but he was silent halfway through. Along the way, he found that all the people had no feet, including the little girl and the old lady who was sitting and making tea.

"Why are you here?" the old lady asked, looking up at the golden cicada.

"When he woke up, the poor monk was here, following the others all the way to this place. Dare to ask where this is?" asked Jin Chan.

"This is the underworld, the land of reincarnation. They are all ghosts, and they are here for reincarnation. The old lady replied. "It's you, the two of the three souls are gone, and the seven spirits are all gone. There is only one soul, but the flesh enters the underworld. It's the first time I've seen the old body. ”

"If you can save the suffering, why should the poor monk be stingy with this soul, one soul is enough. Jin Cicada said with a smile. "Why don't those people and ghosts on the bridge cross the bridge?"

"I can't put it down. In life, how many people can be open after death. Whether it is regret, or anger, or worry, or sadness, those who are willing to cross this bridge have just let go of the obsession in their hearts. The old lady sighed and said.

"Everything disturbs the red dust road, but this body turns into dry bones. Jin Chan turned his head to look at the other side of the bridge, and then sighed. "It is said that the world is sleepy, but it is still bitter to enter the ground. With that, Jin Chan bowed deeply to the old lady, and stepped on the wooden bridge again with the barrel of a short gun.

Walking under the bridge, Jin Cicada put his hand into his mouth and took a hard bite. Immediately, his fingers were bloody, but he didn't care. He put down the bowl in his hand and slowly knelt on the ground with the barrel of the gun. He stretched out his hand, and with his bleeding fingers, began to write on the ground. When the characters are written, they turn golden. When the row was full, he crawled back a little on his knees. Rows of golden characters light up from the front of the bridge. For three days, he wrote nearly a thousand meters, and wrote a path in front of the bridge. After the last stroke fell, he smiled and looked at the golden path in front of him and smiled with relief. And after a while, he was still kneeling there with the broken barrel of the gun, smiling and frozen.

The golden path, emitting bursts of soft yellow light, shrouded those ghosts full of rich black qi, bringing them a trace of warmth. All the ghosts bathed in yellow light, the black qi on their bodies gradually drifted away, and finally revealed the appearance of their lives, with a peaceful face. All the spirits bowed respectfully three times to the winding golden path, and then stepped onto the wooden bridge with a hint of nostalgia. The golden light outside the city alarmed the city's guards. Soon after, a black-faced man in a black robe ran out of the city with nine men towards the bridge. They were all dressed in black robes and black cloaks, and the cloak was embroidered with a blood-red character "King". When the ten people arrived at the bridge, they looked at the golden characters all over the ground and were a little shocked. In this dimly lit world, it is rare to see such a righteous and peaceful atmosphere. They walked all the way to the golden handwriting, looking forward. Finally, at the end of the golden light, a figure was seen.