On a summer night, in a small courtyard in a remote village, Bu An looked at the five people in front of him.

On the contrary, there is a chance to cultivate a casual curse, and Deng Xiaoxian, who has a hippie smile and no serious face;

resurrected from the dead, half in the world and half in reincarnation, an honest monk Huiyuan;

claimed that he was a real feng shui cultivator, and his face was full of wrinkles, like a blind man who had read all the sorrows in the world;

The lame beggar, who is always silent and has no sense of existence at all, Fu Xiu Youping;

Dressed in a patched cloth robe, straightforward and fast-talking, occasionally a little arrogant, and still has some prejudices against him.

In a trance, Bu An remembered that it was also such a night when the blood moon hung overhead, walking on the mountain road of Tianmu Academy, Tu Yao said that even if there was a poetic talent, if he only made wedding dresses for people, it would be empty in the end.

Tu Yao was right, but she was not Bu An after all, and she didn't know his specific situation.

For more than two months, he tried to accept Confucianism, and also inquired from Deng Xiaoxian about Taoist methods of meditation and qi training.

Bu An reluctantly accepted the fact that his cultivation path could only rely on ghost qi, which seemed to have been decided at the beginning of his crossing, and perhaps it was also closely related to the evil moon that first came in the night sky, not necessarily a coincidence.

Since he has to rely on ghost qi to cultivate, he needs a helper, and the stronger the helper, the smoother his cultivation will be.

Therefore, Bu'an's formation of the Seven Divisions of Ghost Hunting is like forming a group to brush ghosts, and everyone shares the gold coins dropped, but the experience points all belong to him.

Although he had a belly full of poems, once he recited it, he caused the heavens and the earth to give birth to different phases, and the aura gathered was incomparable, but these spiritual energies could neither help him to practice, nor would he listen to his orders.

They only create the mood in the poem, and the specific effect is almost random.

The aura gathered by poetry is useless in Bu'an, but it is incomparably precious to others!

The five people in front of him, since they came to the front by mistake, this may be Bu'an's ghost dream team. Even if not now, it will be in the near future.

A cool breeze blew, and Bu An took a breath, a calm smile on the corner of his mouth because he had just made an important decision.

"Today, the Ghost Hunting Seventh Division is just a little pawn in Yuezhou City that no one knows, and he has to go to this rural place to get business, but this is just the beginning. The wind rises at the end of Qingping, and tonight, I will send you a chance ......"

Ignoring everyone's puzzled eyes, he turned around and chanted to himself in a low and slightly sad tone towards the fields crisscrossing the blood-colored moonlight, the gurgling streams, and the rolling hills in the distance.

"Ten years of life and death, without thinking, unforgettable. Thousands of miles of lonely graves, where to talk desolate. Even if you don't know each other, your face is dusty, and your temples are like frost. ”

There was a strange sound in the summer wind, like a large number of people whispering or sobbing.

The aura that spreads all over the mountains and fields is active layer by layer, and it is like a calm lake rippling from here and there, and like a sea tide that is about to sweep from afar.

Bu'an stood in the wind, his green shirt fluttering, looking from behind, as if facing the vast land and thousands of waves alone.

The moment the aura began to fluctuate, except for Hui Yuan's still happy appearance, the expressions on the faces of Deng Xiaoxian, Luo Qingting, Zhang Blind and You Ping changed from confusion to shock, as if they couldn't understand what was happening in front of them for a while.

The handyman of the third division of the ghost catch, the caidong of the seventh division of the ghost catch, let the Tianmu Lingshan not go, but want to come to Yuezhou to mess around, and do not seek to be motivated scholars...... A few lines of poetry with a light breeze set off an amazing surge of aura.

However, this is just the beginning.

"I came back to my hometown in a dream, Xiaoxuan window, and I was dressing up. There are no words for each other, only a thousand tears. It is expected that the intestines will be broken every year, the bright moon night, and the short Matsuoka. ”

Su Shi's "Jiangchengzi" mourning his deceased wife, a masterpiece that has been passed down through the ages in another world, has finally set off a majestic aura commensurate with it in this world where poetry can hook the visions of heaven and earth.

In the final analysis, the aura is transformed by the deceased, so when this incomparable lone peak in the mourning words came out in the remote countryside of Yuezhou, the aura flowing in the fields, woods and hilly slopes swept towards Bu'an like a torrent tsunami.

The aura that was so dense to the extreme that it obscured the blood moon in an instant, and a hazy moon-white light cluster appeared in the sky. The courtyard where everyone is located and its surroundings, suddenly light and shadow flow, light and dark are suddenly divided, it is really like the scene of moonlight shining in the pine forest!

Bu An looked at the vision of heaven and earth that he had caused to the extreme, this time he was neither shocked nor suffered, and before he opened his mouth, he had already expected this result.

Luo Qingting's trembling voice sounded behind him: "This is the poem you composed?"

Bu An turned around and looked at Deng Xiaoxian, who looked excited as if he had picked up a treasure, Hui Yuan, who was still stupid and happy, and Luo Qingting, Zhang Blind and You Ping, who were almost frightened.

It is Su Dongpo's word. Bu'an replied openly.

Luo Qingting said almost word by word: "Dongpo land for Dongpo words, you are a poem in three steps......"

"The surname is Bu, the name is An, and the word is obsessed!" Bu An smiled and persuaded: "Why are you all stunned, don't you practice quickly!"

Although Monk Huiyuan was honest, he was not really stupid, and at this time the first one sat down cross-legged, and said: "The master of the step is really a god and a man, the opportunity is not easy to come by, and the little monk is going to meditate." He closed his eyes.

Luo Qingting and You Ping also hurriedly sat on the ground.

Zhang was probably too anxious and wanted to sit down, but he sat on the edge of the well and almost fell into the well. In the past few days, Bu An has seen him ugly because of his eye disease, and he was obviously frightened by the vision of the gathering of spiritual energy.

Only Deng Xiaoxian was not in a hurry, looking at Bu An with a smile, as if looking at a spiritual mountain holy land with long legs, and said shamelessly: "I can rely on you!"

Bu An half-jokingly glared at Deng Xiaoxian and said, "Where is there so much nonsense! Quickly give me practice! It's up to you to catch ghosts and earn money!"

Deng Xiaoxian smiled and sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, the smile disappeared, and his face gradually calmed down.

The five cultivators sitting by the well can form a circle, standing aside with their arms crossed, and said in their hearts, I am a mobile power bank, responsible for charging you, full of electricity and good work!

I think that at the beginning, his "Fixing the Storm" made Tianmu students flock to him, and he tried every means to stimulate him to write poems again, you must know that it was in the holy place of Confucian cultivation with strong aura, Tianmu Mountain.

If we compare the Tianmu students to the rich officials in fine clothes and food, the five cultivators in the world in front of us are so poor that they can't even eat.

Even the rich flock to the gluttonous delicacies, put in front of this group of hungry people waiting to be fed, the result can be imagined.