The fat monk looked at everyone with disdain and shook his head: "A group of laymen, this is the immortal energy on the poor monks, let you smell it, even if you can't live forever, you can also prolong your life! Not only are you not grateful, but you also come to frame the poor monk!"

"Fuck! It also prolongs life, if Lao Tzu is smoked again, it is estimated that he will be confessed here! This stinky monk is too much of a thing!"

The fat monk ignored the man, walked straight to the window, and muttered as he walked: "A group of laypeople, I don't know, the poor monk is not a thing, but an immortal!"

Although his voice was small, everyone heard his words, and everyone looked disdainful.

"Amitabha, the poor monk bets, and the pit god wins!"

The fat monk walked to the window, scratched his dirty fingers on his head a few times, then took off the dirty boot on his right foot, threw it on the table, and said loudly.

What the?

Everyone immediately retreated a mile, and the steward of the Lotte Fang was directly found by the smell and stepped back, covering his nose and saying: "Stinky monk, you can bet if you bet, but what the fuck do you mean by throwing a stinky shoe out, don't take it away quickly, don't pollute my place!"

"Amitabha, this is your mistake, the poor monk is not an ordinary boot, you take a closer look, this is the best silk weaving, water and fire are invulnerable, it is a priceless treasure, although it is stained with a little dust, but this does not affect its value!"

The fat monk pursed his lips and said disdainfully to the steward.

Priceless?

Will these stinky shoes be priceless?

And a little dust? It's clearly garbage from a manure pit!

Almost no one on the field believed it, but after all, the steward was experienced, and he endured the stench of the sky, and his spiritual sense carefully discerned the dirty boot a few times, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

As the fat monk said, this is the best boots woven from silk, it is a priceless treasure, at least in the Great Yuan Dynasty, it is difficult to find a second pair, at least comparable to the best spiritual weapon.

Soon, the steward took out an ordinary Qiankun ring, a roll of spiritual sense, and put the boots into it.

However, the stench in the air is still there, only a little lighter.

"Stinky monk, if you want to mortgage, just put the other shoe on it, right?" the steward stood in the distance and shouted at the fat monk.

"Amitabha, one is enough for the poor monk!" the fat monk said with his right hand.

The steward was anxious when he heard this, although these shoes stink, but they are indeed good things, as long as they are washed well.

However, the lack of one is always imperfect, so he shouted: "Stinky monk, one is not good, it is worthless!

Although he said so, he didn't have the slightest intention of returning the past.

"What? Amitabha, you are so bad, you must have seen the value of my treasure!" the fat monk blew his beard and glared, and said angrily.

"What? wouldn't it?"

"Could it be that those stinky shoes are really treasures?"

"It's a terrible thing!"

……

The surrounding people were talking, looking at the fat monk, although he covered his nose, his views changed a lot.

"Well, the poor monk is a monk, and he doesn't care about ordinary people!"

The fat monk said angrily, and when he finished speaking, he took off his other boot and threw it at the steward.

Another stench began to fill the air, and the steward hurriedly ducked.

But, no matter how much he flashed, the boot flew towards him as if it had a wit, and the opening of the boot smashed right on his mouth.

"Gross!"

Almost everyone on the field began to retch, and the steward directly put his boots into the Qiankun ring, and then ran to the vent, took a big breath of fresh air, and took out a few bottles of water, and kept washing up.

Ten breaths later, he came to the window, staring at the fat monk angrily, without speaking, as if it was the calm before the eruption of the volcano.

The fat monk didn't realize it, his dirty fingers were picking at his nostrils, and then he took out a wine gourd and took a big sip of wine.

"Fuck, you stinky monk, I'll curse you to death!"

At this moment, the steward finally broke out, pointing at the fat monk and scolding.

However, the fat monk ignored him, and just muttered in a low voice: "It's so uneducated, how can I say that I am also your father, and I am so rebellious, guilty and guilty!"

The steward vented fiercely for more than a dozen breaths before he stopped, looked at the fat monk, and said coldly: "A pair of stinky boots is worth a hundred times of spirit crystal!"

Everyone was shocked, this is a righteous revenge, and it couldn't be more obvious.

When the fat monk heard this, he said angrily: "You are a personal vendetta of the communiqué, my shoes are priceless treasures, and you said that they are only worth a hundred spirit crystals, or I will give me 100,000 spirit crystals, and you will buy me a few hundred pairs?"

The steward blushed when he heard this, and immediately felt a little embarrassed, but he didn't change his words: "I'll tell you the stinky monk, Lao Tzu only allowed you to mortgage it for the sake of you being a guest, don't know what to do!"

When the fat monk heard this, he immediately glared angrily, pointed at the steward and shouted angrily: "Amitabha, you are a little steward, you dare to be so rude, you have to be polite when you see the poor monk!"

As soon as these words came out, everyone was in an uproar.

Soon, someone sent a message to the steward and told him that what the fat monk said was true.

When the steward heard this, his face changed greatly, but he didn't want the fat monk to apologize, he just took out a jade plate, and his spiritual sense moved a few times: "A pair of heavenly silk boots, worth five million lower grade spirit crystals!"

At this time, the fat monk didn't say anything, although his boots were far more than this price, but he couldn't fight for this level, and he didn't want to say anything more.

"Who are you betting?" the steward glanced at the fat monk and said in a cold voice.

"Poor monk pit god!" the fat monk took a sip of wine and hiccuped before he said slowly.

"Who?" the steward was stunned, unsure why.

"Pit God! That's what you want to lose!" the fat monk pouted, not caring about the authentic truth.

The steward was stunned again, and then showed joy, and secretly smiled in his heart.

Now, Dugu is facing Lishen!How can he win?

This stinky monk is going to lose the bet, in other words, this treasure is about to belong to him!

The steward's spiritual sense moved again, carved a few times on the jade plate, and threw it directly towards the monk.

The fat monk took the jade plaque, laughed, and strode towards the ring, saying as he walked: "Amitabha!

……

As soon as Lishen came to the stage, he didn't speak, but looked at Tang Chen, his sharp eyes like knives, as if he wanted to see through Tang Chen.

Tang Chen didn't care, just looked at the other party's tall figure and was slightly surprised.

Zhangji's height is already very tall among human beings, and he can be called a giant.

And Lishen does have this feeling, the vigorous qi and blood, the strong breath, and the curled muscles, as if they are about to burst.

(End of chapter)