Wang Heng's expression was slightly restrained.

He knew he was initially out of balance.

Although he is not afraid of death, after so long in chaos, chaos and loneliness are the most terrifying.

When he was awakened from his obscurity by Bishaman, he felt both warm and uneasy, so he could only protect himself with a rational and calm appearance.

But this is not the case in his nature.

If it were a lonely star, and he would have to live a gloomy life, he would have died long ago or become a madman.

A person must know how to regulate himself.

That's why he was able to understand the loneliness of Bishamen and the poor gods, and he spared no effort to push them.

Looking at Aya and the servant, as well as Que Hequan on the side, he smiled slightly: "That's because you don't know me well enough." ”

Several people exchanged glances, and the lively Aya spoke first: "Okay, although we already know each other, I still ask you for more advice." ”

Wang Heng smiled dumbly: "Please advise." ”

……

said that it was a fish that slipped through the net, but in fact, Wang Heng had already determined that there were no monsters left, so he just chatted with a few people, and by the way, he visited the city called Yuanjiang where the god of madness and poverty lived, and occasionally asked some common sense about gods and artifacts.

Stuck for exactly two hours, he dragged the men back to the dwelling of the poor god.

At a glance from a distance, it seemed that the poor god said a lot, but Bishamen also listened carefully, so it seemed that the atmosphere was not bad.

Glancing at Wang Heng and them, the pink-haired girl reluctantly said goodbye to Bishamen: "Bisha, you must come next time, we can go to see the lantern festival together!" ”

Bisha? Wang Heng glanced at Bishamen with a somewhat strange expression.

Bishamen was a little awkward, glaring at him fiercely, but still replied seriously, "Okay, I remember. ”

Around, the faces of the artifacts were different, but Wang Heng had already restrained his expression, his eyes and nose were looking at his heart, his eyes were not squinting, and his face was as usual.

Bishamen got up, and the artifacts returned to their places one by one.

Finally, he said goodbye to the poor god, and Wang Heng also returned to Bishamen, who waved his hand to the poor god, and his heart moved.

When I opened my eyes, I was in front of the torii gate, the gate of the shrine.

……

The poor god watched Bishamontian leave, and the smile gradually disappeared.

She...... I like this new friend very much, a little reserved, and when communicating with her, it seems very rusty, a little not frank, but very sincere.

Seen as a flood of beasts, she had friends who were willing to accept her for the first time - even if she had just "summoned" a wind cave, causing a lot of trouble for Bishamentian.

She really enjoyed this new friend.

But she was even more envious of the Daoji of Bishamonten.

Having seen most of the suffering in the world, she believes in her own eyes.

That Doji was very polite and gentle to everyone, and he should be a very good person to get along with. But in her eyes, she was sure that this Daoist priest cared about only Bishamentian alone.

Being good to other people is only based on upbringing.

Without endangering himself – and Bishamon – he is a good guy who doesn't mind being nice to everyone and making a mess.

But if anything would endanger himself and the Lord, he would never mind pushing everyone into the fire pit and stepping on them to climb up.

She was very envious.

Sighing softly, the pink-haired girl suddenly patted her head: "It's not good, you have to go and see the terrain first." ”

She didn't like to bring disaster to people—maybe at first, but she didn't feel joy in it, and she often suffered from it, so she rarely did it anymore.

To reduce this odds, she rarely goes out.

But since it's to entertain friends, at least you have to familiarize yourself with the environment, plus you've only cleaned up the monsters once, so there shouldn't be a problem.

After thinking about it in my heart, the poor god walked out of the house.

The New Year is approaching, and even in this chaotic era, Yuanjiang City is gradually becoming lively.

But she lives in the lower part of the city, and the closer the New Year gets, the darker the atmosphere.

The New Year is approaching, but for the poor, it is not a new thing, but another year has passed...... Debt collection.

Vicious mobs are outside the door, knocking with the momentum of breaking the wooden door.

The lonely mother and son were inside the door, curled up and shivering.

Maybe the man is dead.

Maybe he's selling coolies and desperately trying to save money to add a quilt to his family.

In any case, no one could help the mother and son.

The wooden door was finally broken down, and the mob poured in.

The poor god watched indifferently as the men rushed in, through the alleys that were finally no longer crowded.

There was a smashing sound from inside the door, a woman's cry for mercy.

Then a crisp children's voice.

"You're not allowed to hit my mother!"

Then there was the laughter of the men, as if someone had pushed and shoved.

There was a sudden silence in the room.

"Dead, dead?"

Silence spreads.

“…… Let's go. A dull voice.

The poor god stopped and bit his lip.

The woman began screaming and crying.

The poor god turned his head and looked into the black room.

"Kill"

"Up"

"He"

"We".

The voice sounded one after another, and every word was a different voice, like crying and complaining.

"Die"

"Die"

"Mom"

"Kill"

In the darkness, countless scarlet eyes lit up.

The woman's face contorted, she stopped crying, and fell to the ground.

One by one, the men began to walk out the door, their faces gloomy.

The woman looked up and pulled out the knife from behind her, her eyes scarlet.

Overhead, there were countless black shadows and scarlet eyes.

The woman threw herself out.

The god of poverty bit his lower lip.

Turn to a confused necromancer hovering in the doorway.

"O dead spirit, which has no place to return and no place to go, give you a place of refuge.

My name, God of Poverty!

Hold the name and keep it here.

Change your name and surname, and become my servant.

In the name of training, the sound is the instrument.

Obey my orders, for my artifact.

Named Black.

The device is black.

Calling the name, big black! ”

A beautiful folding fan decorated with velvet.

It is not a creation that belongs to this time.

The poor god grabbed the folding fan and waved it forward!

"Black, go!"

The air froze for a moment.

Then, the wind cave is opened again!

Endless black hurricanes poured out from the wind outlets on the ground, like the breath of death surging from the endless Santu River.

Both the women and the men fainted to the ground.

Poor and stunned.

She had never used an artifact to slay a demon, and at most she had only seen Bishamen go on a killing spree today.

The monsters grew rapidly, abandoned the women, and began to flock to the living food, the gods.

The poor god slowly sat down against the wall, and suddenly she felt like crying, and she thought she had already shed tears.

I found a friend, tried hard to save even one person, stayed away from the crowd, was hated, disliked, abused, and gave up on myself.

There are also memories of the black artifacts that just came in.

She...... Tired.

So be it.

She closed her eyes.