Si Chen stopped in front of a display case, staring at the exhibits inside.

For the monks, there is always something unusual to perceive.

In the display case is an ancient painting, which does not seem to be special except for its old age.

"The master is really good eyesight, this is a painting by a famous artist in the Song Dynasty, called the Shadow Moon Mountain Forest Map, which is his proud work......"

The curator chattered nonsense, nothing more than memorizing the words on the introduction.

The author's name is unknown, but the content of the painting matches the name.

It was a winding mountain path, with the moon in the sky, and at the end of the path was a house with a simple depiction.

Si Chen looked at it, and suddenly felt that this place was very similar to the Taoist temple he practiced.

He knew it was an illusion, and that there were many mountains and forests like this.

However, Si Chen couldn't stop this feeling. He stretched out his hand uncontrollably, as if the Taoist temple in the mountain was right in front of him.

The curator and his accompanying assistants grabbed his hand in surprise and pulled him back to reality.

Si Chen froze, and he understood that there was indeed something wrong with this painting.

Si Chen told the curator that there was a problem with the painting and he wanted to take it out and take it out.

The curator hesitated. Perhaps Si Chen's disregard for his speech made him resentful, or perhaps the painting had been stored in the museum for decades and had never happened to anything, which made the curator feel that Si Chen was alarmist.

And Si Chen's strange behavior just now also made the curator suspicious of him.

Si Chen said the words again, and the domineering arrogance made the curator inexplicably timid.

After some twists and turns, the ancient painting was taken out.

The staff unfolded the painting and asked Si Chen to look at it carefully. Si Chen looked at it for a long time, but he couldn't find anything.

He thought for a moment, took out the incense and fire fold from his bosom, lit it and put it under the ancient painting and smoked it.

Time passed little by little, and nothing changed around them. The staff holding the painting was so tired that they moved their shoulders carefully, and the curator's face became more and more ugly.

Si Chen frowned.

He noticed that the smell in the air had changed.

In the originally thick scent, there began to be a faint smell of ink.

Si Chen stared at the ancient painting, and the scenery in the painting began to become real and illusory again in the smoke.

Suddenly, the scenery seems to have color, the moon shadow looms with the clouds, and the trees move with the wind.

Si Chen found that he was already standing on the mountain road.

He was taken aback, but quickly regained his composure, closed his eyes and silently recited the incantation in his mind.

When I opened my eyes again, the clouds and moon were still the same.

Si Chen was a little panicked. He had never encountered such a passive situation since he had practiced.

Si Chen tossed in place, trying his best. He drew his sword and slashed through the woods, only to find an invisible wall around him. When the sword is slashed at it, it bursts with a soft brilliance.

Si Chen became more and more at a loss, and he searched along the invisible wall, and finally found that there was only a mountain path that led to the depths of the woods.

He swallowed his saliva and walked along the mountain path with his sword in hand.

Si Chen walked for a long time, and finally saw the building at the end.

That's the Taoist temple he practiced.

Si Chen's cold sweat broke out. He walked forward in a ghostly manner, as if he could no longer control his body.

There was a neat shouting sound from the Taoist temple, which was the trumpet shouted by the brothers and sisters when they practiced swords.

Si Chen pushed open the door of the Taoist temple and saw the senior brothers in the courtyard swinging their swords neatly under the supervision of the master.

The master paced around the crowd, shouting and shouting.

Si Chen walked in in a daze. When the master and brothers saw him, they did not show much enthusiasm.

"Chen'er, come and practice your sword, don't waste it."

The master said to him.

Si Chen carried the sword, walked into the phalanx, and danced the sword with the brothers.

He kept dancing his sword, and time seemed to lose its meaning. Si Chen felt exhausted, but he still danced his sword.

His sweat began to turn bright red, and his whole body was a little prostration. The master and the brothers turned a blind eye to this, like a group of cold-blooded animals.

I'm going to die. Si Chen thought so.

When he thought so, there was no fear, no anger, and his heart was inexplicably calm and empty.

Si Chen's dancing sword seemed to be cutting his own soul until he died.

A stream of ink seeped from Master's forehead, but he acted as usual, as if he was completely unaware.

Ink seeped out from each of the brothers' heads, quickly engulfing their faces.

The walls, the halls, the trees, the surrounding scenery began to glow with large expanses of ink, as if someone was splashing ink on the whole barrel.

Si Chen felt that his feelings were coming back little by little. The bright red color faded from him, and he concentrated, initiated his strength, and took full control of his body.

The surrounding scenery broke down in an instant, and Si Chen knelt on the ground, supporting his body with his sword. He found himself still in the museum, surrounded by the curator and staff.

He looked up and saw the ancient painting hanging in the air, the ink spewing out of the painting intertwined into a web-like cage, trapping a man in it.

That person was Zuo Kui.

Zuo Kui raised the black and white ruler above his head, and the ink was blocked out of the ruler and could not be compressed.

Zuo Kui's face was calm, but his arms were trembling slightly, as if he was struggling to support.

Si Chen wanted to help, but his body was too weak to move.

He let out a loud roar, exerted all the strength of his life, and threw his sword at the ancient painting.

The sword, pierced the ancient painting. The ink spewed out of the ancient painting began to tumble, and the cage became unstable.

Seeing this, Zuo Kui slashed the two rulers at each other. The broken rulers scattered, cutting the ancient paintings into pieces.

The ink shattered in an instant and disappeared in the air.

The moment the cage broke, Zuo Kui rolled out. He pulled the fire fold out of his bosom with lightning and threw it at the ancient painting.

The ancient paintings hanging in the air suddenly burst into flames. Strangely, all the fragments that were scattered around were also burning.

A moment later, a silent burst of light exploded. In the place where the ancient painting burned out, an ancient book fell out and fell quietly to the ground.

Zuo Kui patted the dust on his body, put away the ancient books, and turned around to leave.

"Stand...... Hold it! ”

A force supported Si Chen to stand up and shouted out this sentence with all his might.

Zuo Kui turned his head and looked at him indifferently.

Si Chen looked at him, but he was speechless.

What is he going to say? Because of the annoyance of failure, he wants to blame the person who saved him?

"That'...... I have a copy of that book, too! Si Chen roared.

He could only yell so that he could vent his anger and hide his shame.

Zuo Kui looked at him and said, "If it weren't for you to wake up the ink essence in the painting, there would have been no such trouble." If I come a little later, you will surely die. ”

"You ......" Si Chen's face suddenly turned red, and he continued to roar angrily: "Leave your name!" ”

Zuo Kui didn't answer him. He left the museum quickly, as fast as a ghost.

Si Chen dragged his body and walked out, and found that it was already late at night.

He looked around for a long time, but he couldn't find Zuo Kui's shadow.

Si Chen slammed his sword to the ground. His face flushed and he let out an angry roar that echoed through the buildings of the museum, and was finally swallowed up by the night.