That is, if it comes, it will be safe, the landslide is not afraid, and the heart is as calm as water.

Tang Bai no longer deliberately seeks the trajectory of the change of the stele, nor is he afraid of the inscription on the stele, he is like a tourist, feeling the magic on the stele.

"The art of God is also, the sky is according to its rules, the one who sees it is sheng, the foundation, the clumsy, the hidden, the nine tricks... ”

"The gods of man are the number of the sun and the moon, and the size is determined... “

"Thunder, gale, sinking, elephant... “

Each stone tablet has different inscriptions, different contexts, and different magical techniques.

Some of these stone steles are magnificent, some are obscure, some are solemn and sacred, some are charming, some are inherently skilled, some are full of whimsical ideas, some are earthly wind, water and fire, some are thunder, lightning and frost, some are extremely dangerous, and some are also dangerous with Tang Bai's cultivation to the 'five yangs' state of mind, and they have escaped death several times.

Although his consciousness was not confused by the inscription, his state of mind remained calm, but his behavior became cautious.

He didn't know who left some of the steles and what their purpose was, but it was undeniable that the god who left these spells behind must have been an earth-shattering and pedantic figure, and only such a person, who had left behind the inheritance, and after the passage of time, the realm in which the stele was produced was still so powerful.

He couldn't help but think of the old and ruined altar, could this stone stele forest be the space in that altar? And these inscriptions are the sacrifices in the altar?

He quickly dismissed the idea!

"Those who know know themselves, those who do not know do not seek; ”

This is the truth that the Master once taught him when he was a child: Heaven and earth are natural, and people will naturally understand things that they can understand, and if they cannot understand things, they should not think nonsense, but seek truth from facts, so that they can understand the truth.

Then, he moved more and more slowly, and spent more and more time in front of the stele.

He kept pushing and learning.

He understands magic in the mode of 'one thread', and he believes that all spells, no matter how obscure, will have a beginning and an end, and as long as you find this beginning and end, then all problems will naturally be solved.

It's just that it's easy to think, but it's hard to do.

The magic on the stele has too many beginnings and ends; the more he perceives, the more confused he becomes; the inscriptions on these steles are all mutilated, like a thread that has been broken into countless pieces.

Moreover, the magic inherited on the inscription is the oldest divine art, which is very different from the magic, Taoism, and Buddhism, and there is no corresponding mental method and divine skill.

He could only comprehend through the mirror produced by the inscription.

As the saying goes: Danger and chance coexist, that's it, and the environment is both chance and danger.

But the more so, the more interested he became.

He was constantly thinking, thinking about combining the spells, Taoism, and Buddhism he had learned with the magic on the stone tablet, and he wanted to create a spell of his own.

He had a strong feeling in his heart that the inscription on the stone tablet was his own chance.

Then, he did not move forward, he sat cross-legged in front of a stone tablet, meditating, I don't know how long it took, he opened his eyes, with his finger as a sword, with the second style of "Tianji Swordsmanship" as a starting hand, muttered: "The Yellow River is thousands of miles of sand, the wind is from the end of the world; ”

Then, above his fingertips, a bit of turbid yellow light burst out, turning into a twisting Yellow River, carrying rolling quicksand, like a huge wind tossing the end of the world, and above the Yellow River, a black stone bridge stretched across the void, one end connected to the world, and the other end led to the netherworld.

On the pontoon, a hazy figure is slowly emerging.

The Yellow River does not come from nowhere, and people wander alone on the bridge;

This is not a Taoist technique, nor a spell, nor a divine technique, but a realm, a realm formed by the martial arts he once learned.

He put his realm of perception above Taoism, magic, and divine magic.

Suddenly, even his own will was affected by the 'realm', and he felt that the figure on the bridge was himself, and he felt that his soul was walking on the dim and dark bridge deck, accompanied by the roar of the yin wind in his ears, and slowly walked towards the netherworld.

He felt the cold Nine Netherworld winds blowing on his body, wanting to blow away his soul, and he felt that there was an invisible sucking coming from the Netherworld at the end of the bridge, pulling his body and making him fall into the Netherworld cycle forever.

At the same time, an incomparable rule pressed down from the void, and a powerful rule force went straight into Tang Bai's Heavenly Palace, wanting to erase his consciousness and soul.

Tang Bai felt that his soul was collapsing, and the human illusion and netherworld reincarnation at both ends of the Black Bridge were also collapsing, and even the Yellow River with the surging Yellow River at the bottom of the bridge was also collapsing.

The sound of a boom and rumble sounded in his heavenly palace, like an endless heavenly thunder roaring.

The light, in his heavenly palace, is full of endless light.

There is the light of the rules of the Great Dao, there is the magic light, there is the Buddha light, and the light emitted by the instinct of the soul of life.

All kinds of lights crisscrossed him, making his Heavenly Palace feel like a chaotic battlefield.

The pain spread through his mind, and he felt like his whole head was about to explode, and in the extreme pain, he fainted.

At this time, his face was terrifyingly pale, and his breath was faint like an old man who was about to die.

This is an invisible calamity, a calamity of the soul.

People have a destiny, and they are attached to their souls.

Every change in human destiny is a change in the degeneration or sublimation of the soul.

The same goes for Tang Bai.

This creation is the trajectory of his desire to change his life.

There was silence all around, except for the towering stone monuments.

I don't know how long it took, Tang Bai's fingers moved, and then slowly opened his eyes.

He was still lying on the ground, not because he didn't want to get up, but because he felt extremely weak.

And this weakness is not the weakness of the body, but the weakness of the soul.

Recalling the scene before he passed out, he didn't understand why he was suppressed by the rules of the Great Dao when he created the Dao?

He didn't know that what he had created was not the Dao, but the realm of martial arts, which had been sublimated to a realm more powerful than the Dao.

Except for the author, no one knows: the extreme of the Tao, the extreme realm, the realm of life, so the Tao does not allow the realm.

It's like a person who is a big brother in the underworld and definitely doesn't want to be the second or third.

Tang Bai did not die this time, but also lucky, in his heavenly palace, there is the will of demons and Buddhas, blocking most of the power of the rules, only to pick up a broken life;

It's just that soul injuries are difficult to heal, except for the soul nourishing grass in the Yin Spirit Mountain Range, they can only cultivate the mind, strengthen the spirit, and strengthen the mind, and then they can nourish the soul; it's just that it takes a long time, and some monks can't raise their souls even if they die.

As it happens, he happens to have soul nourishing grass.

After resting for a long time, Tang Bai endured the danger of fainting again or running out of soul oil, and drove the idea of knowing the sea, took out a seven-leaf soul nourishing grass from the purple gold ring, picked a leaf, and put it in his mouth.

A warm breath poured into his heavenly palace, as if the warm sun shone on the soul of the heavenly palace, making him feel as if he had returned to the time when he was a child, lying in his mother's warm embrace, carefree and sleepy.

He was literally asleep and even snored.

He hadn't slept in a long time, and this time, he slept so sweetly that he wouldn't wake up even if the sky fell.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, and when he woke up, he still felt weak, but at least he didn't feel like he had run out of oil, and he struggled to get up, sat cross-legged, and plucked two more leaves from the seven-leaf soul nourishing grass.

This time, he did not fall asleep, but practiced the "Nine Yang Sutra".

The heart gives birth to God, God gives birth to knowledge, knowledge gives birth to thoughts, and thoughts nourish the soul.

His thoughts of knowing the sea and the sunshine are very powerful, and the power of thoughts is to nourish the soul of life, and the two powers are fused together, like a ray of light, constantly pouring into his soul and nourishing his soul.

There is no sun and moon in the stele forest, how can the outside world be a thousand years?

After several pranayamas like this, when only the last leaf of the Seven Leaf Soul Nourishing Grass remained, Tang Bai stood up.

At this time, he no longer had any weakness, his eyes flashed, but his face was extremely calm, as if the catastrophe of life and death had not left any trace in his heart.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes flickering, and suddenly he stretched out his right hand, and a pitch-black oil lamp appeared in his hand.