The seven colors of the blade of the Yama knife receded, and the blood-colored ghost patterns covered the silver-white blade, like the blood vessels and veins of the human body.

Wisps of black mist swirled around the Yama Sword, arcs of lightning slashed through them, and dazzling sparks erupted.

Thundered!

The white space shook incessantly, and seemed to collapse at any moment.

There was an extremely oppressive aura all around, as if some peerless beast was about to appear. With a click, a tiny crack spread along the ground at the lower end of the Yama Knife, and the fine lines became more and more, covering the entire white space like a spider's web.

Bang!

The entire white space made a crisp sound, shattering like a mirror.

The Yama knife actually tore apart the small space!

The Woodcutter's Fountain is an independent space, and the palace is actually a small space, but the walls of the space are much thinner than the independent space where the Woodcutter's Fountain carries the spring water.

The monstrous water outside poured down, frantically surging towards Madara sitting in the void and the Yama Knife suspended in front of him.

Rumble!

Madara stood up calmly and stretched out his right hand, trying to grasp the black-filled Yama Sword.

The spring water did not wet a single corner of his clothes. The repulsion formed a transparent sphere that covered Madara and the Yama Knife. The furious spray crashed into the wall of repulsion and returned in vain.

Bang!

As soon as Madara's hand touched the hilt of the knife, there was a flash in front of him, and the world was no longer underwater.

A blood-colored world, with gusting winds, thick fog, corpses everywhere, and wails in the distance. A terrifying sight that only the Netherworld exists.

"Humph......"

Madara suddenly smiled and walked forward.

The Knife Spirit Spot creates a fantasy space, and he doesn't break it open, see what the Knife Spirit Spot can make.

When it splits into three, his own doppelganger gives Madara a glimpse of what a madman is. I thought that the soul clone would not come to this drama again, but it seems that he thought too much.

After walking for several miles, my vision gradually became clearer, and I suddenly saw a hideous ghost-faced city gate, with a big sign hanging on it, with seven big golden characters written "Ghost Gate Pass of the Netherworld".

Step into the ghost gate. You can see the skull mountains piled up with white bones, and the scorched green land floats, burning the earth with a little yin fire.

The black fog is misty, and the devil is crying.

"This Yin Mountain is a little shorter!"

Madara raised an eyebrow slightly. As we walked on, the terrain became more and more precipitous, and a pair of green eyes appeared in the mist, peeping spots, like wolves lurking in the depths of the jungle in the night.

The fog gradually lifted. The wails are getting closer.

At the foot of the mountain, countless souls gathered, one by one, tightly tied to the bolts, ropes tied with ropes, ugly and hideous little ghosts holding copper hammers and iron whips, only to beat the skin and flesh of the dead souls and blood.

Everywhere there was crying and crying, miserable and miserable. Let the earth be miserable, and let the heavens have no help.

But don't deceive your heart in life, who will be let go?

Good and evil will be rewarded in the end, only to fight for early and late.

Madara wanders through the eighteen layers of hell and watches all kinds of terrifying scenes. There was no change in his face, and the surrounding oni were oblivious to Madara.

Sins that death cannot wash away require eighteen layers of hell to forgive.

It is difficult to explain the fall for a thousand years, and it will never turn over.

Coming out of the eighteen layers of hell, a large river blocks Madara's way. The blood waves were surging, and a thick bloody breath floated above the river, as if the river was condensed by countless blood.

The fog in the river was so misty that there was no other shore in sight, and there were no ferries, and a chain bridge was erected on the bank of the river on Madara's side. The other end stretches into the mist, and I don't know if it leads to the other side.

The river under the bridge was tumbling like a boiling oil pot. Take a look at the three souls and go to the second, how dare you say that you cross the bridge.

When I heard the ghost crying and the god cry. The blood and water are muddy and high.

The Lethe River is empty in front of the Lethe River, but what can be done on the bridge.

Madara didn't have to teleport, he jumped on the bridge lightly and walked gently across the chain bridge.

"I entered the ghost gate, walked around the eighteenth layer of hell, and crossed the bridge. Don't show up yet? ”

Madara stood on the opposite bank, his hands behind his back, no longer moving forward.

"It's really a disappointment, I don't want your ticket, don't you want to go and see the last six reincarnations?"

A black-robed young man walked out of the fog, his face exactly the same as Madara's.

"You're boring enough, a fantasy realm has done everything, you really think you're the son of Yama!"

Madara glanced at the black crown worn by the sword spirit spot, and the twelve jade beads hung along the crown plate.

"If I were Yama, I would be the first to take you to hell." Dao Lingban laughed.

"Yes!"

Madara suddenly remembered what Evil Madara had said to him back then.

If he becomes a Buddha, he will be the first to surpass himself.

I wander between heaven and hell, what do I see?

Room! A place of hope, but also despair!

"It doesn't matter if you go to hell, whatever. If one day...... I will never come back, at least you will accompany Xiaoxian! ”

Madara's words are dead, and he doesn't know what will happen in the future.

The Horcruxes were not only made to leave a way out, but also so that the cat fairy would not be lonely.

"Don't be so pessimistic! We can't come back, there is only one possibility, and we are lost again! Dao Lingmada sighed.

"Maybe!"

"By the way, try the special product of the Yellow Springs Day Tour, the upgraded version of 'Meng Po Soup' 'Meng Po Pimple Soup'! It is specially provided to people with status to drink, showing that he is different. ”

There was a broken porcelain bowl in Dao Lingban's hand, and the yellow-orange-orange muddy soup was like mud, "What flavor do you want to drink?" Shrimp fish plate? Braised beef? Spicy beef? Laotan sauerkraut? Or chicken stew with mushrooms? ”

"Forget it, it's only the upper class that can afford it. I'm afraid that after drinking it, I will forget who I am! ”

Madara couldn't help but laugh, the atmosphere that was originally a little dignified was messed up by the sword spirit spots.

"How can the upper class afford this! Unless he's ready to go to hell! ”

Dao Lingban also smiled, put away the instant noodle-flavored Meng Po pimple soup, reached into the sleeve robe with his left hand, and took out a series of small toys, "Do you want souvenirs?" Black and white impermanence figures! A bull-headed horse-faced pillow! With a flick of his right hand, there were two more pillows, with a bull's head and a horse's face printed on them.

The whimsical patterns on the pillows are very postmodern abstract art.

"I said how I didn't see black and white impermanence and bull head and horse noodles, it turned out that they became souvenirs. Now I am convinced that you are by no means a Yama. Throughout ancient and modern times, whether it is the West or the East, there is no underworld, and the soul messenger is a figure and a pillow. ”

Madara looked at the subtle and slightly warped black and white impermanence figures, as well as the bull head and horse face on the pillow, and couldn't help but feel sad in his heart, thinking that he had a lifetime of fame, and everyone in the world was afraid of him like Shura, but in the end he couldn't change the fact that he was a psychopath.

I thought that the wooden clone was the limit of neurosis, but now I see my own soul clone. Madara realized that there was a more ruthless existence than the wooden clone.

If someone sleeps with a black and white figure in the house at night and a bull-headed horse-faced pillow, it is estimated that death is not far away.

If you ask how you died, there are no more than two kinds, to die and to be scared to death. (To be continued.) )xh118

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