Elder Ojuku gouged out his own heart, and his inner demons disappeared with it.

The young monk straightened out his monk's robe and stood up indifferently.

Several disciples outside Biluo Hall who were guarding the formation saw the young monk coming over, as if they were facing a great enemy, and surrounded him one after another.

"Monk, you hurt our Elder Osu and our disciples of Biquan Villa, do you want to leave?"

Bai Luo turned around, saw the young monk lowered his eyes, and asked softly, "How to pay for it?"

The fierce-speaking disciple couldn't help but be stunned when he saw that the young monk was so good at talking, and subconsciously said, "Killing people pays for life!"

The young monk was silent and did not argue. If that disciple stabbed with a sword now, the young monk would not dodge.

A trace of displeasure flashed in Bai Luo's heart, and he asked the disciple in a cold voice, "Do you want to tell me who this little monk killed?"

The disciple was speechless.

Bai Luo said sarcastically: "You elders committed their own sins and killed themselves, do you want to count this account on the little monk's head?"

When the disciple saw Bai Luo helping the young monk, he didn't dare to argue, and muttered in a low voice: "Didn't he bring the Vermilion Bird Feather, and he hurt so many of our disciples." ”

Xie Zhanning shouted: "Don't be presumptuous!"

Bai Luo said with a smile: "If it weren't for your elders' own demons, this Vermilion Bird Feather would be an ordinary bird feather in his hand. If it weren't for this little monk who let out his evil qi to suppress the demons in Osu, you disciples would have been burned to death by fire a long time ago. Have you been hurt by his evil spirit?"

This time, even Xie Zhanning was stunned, he never expected that this young monk was actually to save people, and he was wrong to blame him. Xie Zhanning arched his hand to the young monk and said, "I blamed the little master for it, and Zhanning made amends to the little master." ”

"Not necessarily. The young monk spat out two words indifferently, turned around and walked out of Biluotang.

The matter has been explained clearly, and naturally no one will stop him again. The figure of the young monk looked extremely lonely among the disciples of Biquan Villa wearing blue gauze and green shirts.

Bai Luo said to Xie Zhanning: "Then we will also leave." ”

Xie Zhanning hurriedly said, "White girl, please stay." ”

Bai Luo looked back at Xie Zhanning with some displeasure.

Xie Zhanning said abruptly: "White girl, it's not too early, it's better to have dinner in Biquan Villa." ”

Xie Zhanning is Xie Bonian's eldest son, and the affairs of the village have long been handed over to Xie Zhanning to take care of. In terms of mundane things, Xie Zhanning will never go wrong. Although an elder has just died in Biquan Villa, Bai Luo is still the benefactor of Biquan Villa, so naturally he can't lose his courtesy.

Bai Luo smiled coldly and choked, "Why don't you say the same to the little monk?"

Xie Zhanning choked and smiled bitterly: "Little Master shouldn't ignore me." ”

This is true, if Xie Zhanning had just said it to the young monk, the young monk would not even give him an expression.

Xie Zhanning said gently: "White girl, you saved the foolish brother, and the foolish brother will definitely thank you personally when he wakes up." I also hope that the white girl will not dislike the simplicity of the village, so Zhan Ning will go to prepare good wine and food for the white girl. ”

Having said that, Bai Luo was not easy to refuse, so he accepted Xie Zhanning's invitation.

The people in Biluo Villa were more or less injured, and several front halls were also a little messy, so naturally they couldn't go again. Xie Zhanning set up the banquet in his Luomei courtyard.

Xie Zhanning said that it is indeed not a lie to prepare good wine and food, although the time is in a hurry, but several dishes and ingredients taste the best. Even the sake is made in winter from the frost and snow on the plum blossoms. Xie Zhanning is very hospitable, chatting during the banquet, and eating a meal is not boring.

While they were eating, the front hall was cleaning up the mess.

The two disciples put a white cloth on Elder Ojuku and carried Elder Ojuku to the back mountain.

No one noticed that the heart that had been dug out by Elder Ojuku was gone.

......

After the young monk walked out of Biquan Villa, he walked down the 3,000 steps in front of Biquan Villa. He didn't have a sword in his hand, and he didn't know how to resist a sword, so he could only go down one level at a time, and when he reached the foot of the mountain, it was already dark.

At the foot of the mountain is the town of Yuquan. Because Yuquan Town relies on Biquan Villa, there are few monsters to haunt it, and it is even more lively at night than during the day. Theaters, gambling houses, and green houses are all very noisy at night. There are guests who go to listen to music and buy drunk at night, and there are also ghost food stalls.

The ghost food stall has the word "ghost", but it has nothing to do with ghosts, and it is not a stall for ghosts. The word "ghost" refers to those who don't come home at night and are still out buying drunk.

The ghost food stalls in Shu are very lively. Push a small food cart on the street, put a few tables, chairs and benches, and it becomes a stall. These stalls sell everything.

The seller of fried rice and fried noodles held a pot in one hand and a spatula in the other, and the iron pot swayed on the fire, and the golden fried rice was raised high and fell back into the pot.

Next to the fried rice seller is the spicy hot pot, a pot full of chili peppers and peppercorns is bubbling, and the stall owner dresses the food in the pot into skewers for diners to choose. Once the diners have picked out the skewers, the stall owner serves them on a plate and sprinkles a spoonful of chili noodles on top.

The stalls selling wontons are neatly stacked with rows of round wontons. It doesn't take long for these wontons to be boiled crystal clear, poured into a bowl with hot soup, put seaweed, shrimp skin, and if you love chili peppers, you can also put a spoonful of chili oil, eat one to warm your heart and stomach.

And the kebab stall. The stall owner used a fan to fan it while brushing the lamb skewers on the shelves with oil, and then sprinkled cumin, peppercorns, and chili noodles.

The whole street is fragrant, and the whole street is filled with fireworks.

The young monk touched his money bag, and finally lowered his head and silently turned around and walked towards the suburbs. What do these fireworks have to do with him?

The young monk walked to the suburbs, walked up along the dirt road, and turned a land temple that was the Little Wuxiang Temple.

The small Wuxiang Temple was originally not small, but now that the cultivation of immortals is prevalent, there are naturally fewer people who worship the Buddha. The small Wuxiang Temple fell. There was no incense before, and now it is not popular at all.

Not only is there no incense, but there is also a dead breath and a bloody smell.

In front of the door of the small Wuxiang Temple, there are six tombs, and a wooden plaque is erected on each tomb bag, which reads the tomb of Guangci, the abbot of the small Wuxiang Temple, the tomb of Guangcong, the tomb of Guanghui of the small Wuxiang Temple, the tomb of Guangji of the small Wuxiang Temple, the tomb of Guanghong of the small Wuxiang Temple, and the tomb of Guangjing of the Xiaowuxiang Temple.

The young monk stretched out his jade-white hand and stroked it over the tombstones one by one, and the emotions that had been suppressed finally collapsed. He knelt in front of Guangci's tomb to hide his face and wept bitterly: "Master, I hurt you!"

Tears flowed from his fingers and dripped into the mud, but unfortunately the spirits underground could not hear his confession.

Tired of crying, the young monk silently walked back to the temple. The temple had been burned by fire and had long since been dilapidated, and the scorched blackness left by the fire concealed the bloodiness of the temple's past.

The young monk took out some straw from the corner and spread it in front of the Buddha. The Buddha statue has long been burned by a fire so that it is impossible to see the original appearance. The young monk curled up under the incense table and covered himself with straw.

At night, the young monk would be chilled, he would curl up on the straw and shiver, his teeth chattering and gurgling.

In the past, when he was chilling, he would be accompanied by a master every night, and although it could not really warm him up, the master covered him with a thick quilt and recited meditation mantras beside him.

"Nan Wu, drink Ratana, Doroyeye. ”

The young monk trembled and read the scriptures.

"Nan Wu, Ah Yaye. Brahmatri, Shrou Roya. ”

It was as if the Master was still by his side while he was reciting the scriptures like this.

But how could Master still be there?

He burned the masters to death with his own hands with a fire!

He went down the mountain to make a fortune, and that day he was very lucky, and he met a family of soup porridge, and when they saw that he was a monk, they gave him a lot of white flour cakes. On the way back with the white bread, he saw a beautiful red feather and picked it up.

He doesn't remember the rest of the matter very clearly, and he can only remember some bits and pieces.

On weekdays, his masters ate very little, perhaps because the bread was delicious that day, and his masters soon ate the last piece of bread.

Which master went to get the last piece of bread first? He couldn't remember. All he remembered was that all of a sudden his masters had reached out like the last piece of bread. They grabbed the loaf and no one let go.

The young monk watched his masters fight for the last piece of bread.

The young monk only heard a "cooing" sound, like the sound of someone who was hungry from his stomach. He watched in horror as Monk Guanghui bit Monk Guangji's hand.

Blood trickled from the back of the Guangji monk's hand. I don't know why these monks, who never touched the meat and fish, suddenly became bloodthirsty beasts.

They gnaw at each other's flesh and drink each other's blood from broken veins.

The young monk stopped Guangci, and Guanghong bit off Guangjing's cheek. The young man stood between Guangcong and Guangji, and Guanghui tore Guangci's throat.

The masters, who had been afraid of him being cold and hungry, seemed to be unable to hear him or see his crying.

The young monk's eyes were blood-red, and his nose was filled with the pungent smell of blood. But that's far from the end.

Guangjing, who only has half of his face left, can still tear off other people's flesh and put it in his mouth one by one, and Guangjing, who is missing half of his face, even half of his teeth are exposed. He chewed on Hirotoshi's flesh with his molars, and the minced flesh fell from between his teeth through his hollow cheeks to the ground.

He saw Guang Ci, who had a hole in his throat, tilt his head and gouge out Hirohiro's eyes.

He stood between the six masters, and they didn't seem to be able to see him at all.

He hoped it was a nightmare. After waking up from the dream, he saw the masters chanting sutras and wiping the incense burner of the Little Wuxiang Temple.

He hoped that his masters would eat him too, so that he would not have to witness this cruel moment.

Until Guangci's head rolled to his feet, staring at him, no longer merciful. He knew all his hope was gone.

There was only a patch of blood left in front of his eyes, and he felt that the aura surging in his body could no longer be controlled. His evil spirit burst through his body and suppressed all violence in an even bloodier way.

The evil qi was like a sharp blade, tearing apart every struggling body, and for a while, flesh and blood flew sideways, smearing the dilapidated walls of the Little Wuxiang Temple. The blood and minced meat stuck to the moss in the corner, to the dusty incense burner, and to the fingers of the Buddha.

None of those fleshy stumps were complete, they couldn't distinguish the length, the fat and thin, the original color, they were just pieces of meat stacked together.

He exuded all his evil energy and stopped the beastly slaughter, but in the end he couldn't even put together a corpse. He could only burn these stumps with a single fire, so that the blood on the incense burner would evaporate in the flames, and the minced meat on the Buddha's fingers would turn into char in the flames.

The Buddhist temple on which he lived, his beloved Master, his only light and warmth, finally overlapped with his nightmare.

What makes the temple of mercy a bloodthirsty hell?

To this day, he is told that all this is only because he brought back a patch of red feathers.

The cannibalistic hell was his nightmare, why didn't he bear it, why did he take away his only light and warmth, and let him continue to live in this world?

The young monk curled up on the cold stone brick floor, his fingers digging deep into the cracks of the stone bricks, blood flowing from his fingertips and running down the stone cracks.

The young monk's lips were blue, and the breath he exhaled condensed into a white mist, and he trembled and couldn't even read a complete scripture.

In a blur, he saw a pair of white boots with gold trim standing in front of him, and he didn't have the strength to raise his eyes to see who was coming.

He wished that he was the one who had come to arrest him and go to the underworld to atone for his sins. So that he would not have to live alone in the world like this.

The man grabbed him by the arm and carried him on his back. He leaned on the man's back, and saw the man's long, inky hair brushing his cheeks and falling down his shoulders.

In a blur, he saw himself passing by the graves of several masters.

Sure enough, they came to take him to the underworld, right?

But why is it so warm?