It is rumored that the Buddha was entrusted by the Buddha to transform the world, twisting his fingers into flowers to pave a bright road, each flower and leaf has a pure Buddha intention that can cleanse the heart, and you can reach the other side by bathing.

The bitter-faced monk could not reach the realm of the Buddha, but he also twisted out a flower road, and the road was also paved with countless flowers, and the five-colored gorgeous fragrance was fragrant, far more colorful than the road surface with only divine light.

The road surface comes out of the hand, from the feet, like a clear wave like a breeze pushing forward, and the bluestone everywhere is completely powdered and black, leaving only a piece of warm gray sand. The dead and clean ash, the fine and compact sand, as if the impurities had been removed by something, leaving only the side that should have been left.

Above the pavement, the rich aroma gathers in the air, condensing into mouths with faces.

The mouth is part of the face, and those are not. It gives the impression that they are the main body, and that the rest of the facial features and even the face are just vassals of it, and they need to follow their instructions and serve their mission.

The mission of the mouth is to recite, so countless mouths keep opening and closing, reciting countless scriptures, words, nursery rhymes, and even poems. At the same time, expressions appeared on the faces of the mouth, agitated and uplifted, reverent or painful, and the chanting was followed by shouts, roars, weepings and supplications, and whimpering. It sounds like all the words in the world that can be recited by the mouth are contained on this flower road, all of which are full of persuasion and pity, and they will be unbearable to hear.

If you can't bear it, you can go on the road, and only on the road can you have a direction, which is the Buddha's will. There are no Buddhist cultivators in the world, there are endless scriptures, and there are thousands of interpretations, but if we get to the end, the ultimate meaning of Buddhism can be summed up in just two words: guidance.

Point out the way for believers to walk.

Guidance is obscure, and hard to find. The bitter-faced monk is more thorough and direct, and he can't bear to see the pain of the confused person finding the way. Simply draw it with flowers and just step on it.

Flower road spreads. It seems to be unhappy, but in fact, it is at his feet in an instant, and Mr. Eight Fingers is like seeing a snake and scorpion, his body flickering and disappearing like lightning, and he is already a hundred meters away in a blink of an eye.

The flower path is at your feet.

The bitter-faced monk has passed through the world for thousands of years, and a wisp of Buddha's heart knows, where he goes, and he will never disappear. At this time, his gaze moved with Mr. Eight Fingers, and when he saw it, he pointed to it, and when he pointed to it, he reached it. Thousands of chanting voices gathered like clouds in the sea, firmly locking that wisp of qi.

Mr. Eight Fingers felt the pulling force, his eyes were confused for a moment, and then he suddenly let out a low cry and his body exploded.

The hurricane pushed, the clouds of fire rose into the air, and the slightest arc of lightning jumped at his feet, like a bean, and threw him into the air in an instant.

The flower path is still underfoot.

The bitter-faced monk walked slowly. Drifting forward along the flower road, his eyes swept over the mouths that kept opening and closing along the way, looking at the pious faces, his expression became more and more pity.

Heaven and earth are unkind. There is too much suffering in the world, and as a messenger of the transition to eliminate suffering and give sweetness, what the monk has to do is to eliminate the suffering in the world. Each person is crossed. He has to leave the other party's suffering, so the more advanced his cultivation becomes. The bitterness on his face grows stronger until it cannot be removed. The person who is going to cross today is not the most bitter person that a monk has ever encountered. But that bitterness is extremely stubborn, and he refuses to give up by holding on to his body, which makes him sigh with emotion.

"Stubborn, what's the pain. ”

The words were pitying, the voice was bitter, and the monk's gaze moved with the flying figure, and he shook his head gently.

"Evil obstacles, what are you, how can you run out of my Buddha vision. ”

The horizon is not the real realm, but the scope of the circle of sight, the line of sight is the light, what can run over the light?

No, even if a monk is a profound cultivator, the speed of flying away cannot always be compared to light. According to the words of Jusan Lang, transcending the sound is already considered powerful.

Thirteen Lang's endowment is amazing, the wind and thunder twin spirit roots are both good at speed, although they are not powerful, the speed of escape is also extremely amazing, and they can surpass the sound.

But he couldn't outrun the light, he was too far away. Therefore, no matter how he ran or flashed, all the monk had to do was to catch his figure with his sight, and the flower path could be derived from it.

Jusan Lang was still running, running around at a speed that surpassed the sound, and he couldn't and didn't dare to be negligent for a moment. As long as the body is a little sluggish, the sound of chanting has arrived before the sea of flowers arrives, which can always make his eyes appear a little confused.

He tried to defuse it, but the path was endless, and the supernatural counterattack ruined his head but could not get to the root; Thirteen Lang was unwilling to compete with his opponent for mana, so he simply closed his hearing so as not to be disturbed by the sound of the Buddha.

It's useless, how can you close the recitation of the sound that is not substantial. For example, in the crowd watching the battle around at this moment, most of them could only see the snake-like flower path blocking the air and locking the twist, and they could also see those gap-open mouths and faces, but they couldn't hear a single chant. It is not they who want the monk to cross, they are not qualified to let the monk cross, so naturally they cannot be heard.

There is no solution.

Once the opportunity is lost, the bitter monk will force the opponent into a place of no solution. Unless Thirteen Lang dared to set foot on that flower road, he could only escape at high speed for a moment until the moment of exhaustion.

"Evil obstacles, really evil obstacles. ”

The Buddha's voice is compassionate, and even the word "evil obstacle" also contains a trace of compassion, not like scolding, but like persuasion. Although Mr. Eight Fingers is tenacious, the monk has not used all his strength, at this moment he is slightly ill, and the surrounding group of cultivators are ready to move because of the name of the mountain king, and several of them are enough to make the monk vigilant, and he can't help but take precautions. What's more, there is also a Blood Dance King with an unknown attitude in the venue, and the monk can't be distracted by it.

Like her, even if she doesn't come from the body, she doesn't need to make a move, she just sits there casually, and the people around her can't treat it as if she doesn't exist, even if it's a monk.

Perhaps, this is the calculation of the evil obstacle. The monk followed the figure of Thirteen Lang all the way, feeling a little annoyed in his heart. He believed that Thirteen Lang was close to using all his strength at this time, and he had not refused to welcome the Blood Dance King before, most of which was to involve himself. Because the monk has not reached any agreement with Blood Dance, if she sees the opportunity, it is difficult to say that she will not snatch love.

Don't dare to go all out, the most powerful means have to stay, the monk's strength is only six or seven percent at best, and he has forced Mr. Eight Fingers to go to the sky and enter the ground.

In terms of the thunderous battle of the monks, this battle is not a short time, but except for the initial scary, the rest are a little boring.

"What's the problem? ”

The monk sighed again, and said slowly during the pursuit: "Being able to escape but not running shows that you still want to find an opportunity to fight back." Release all those pet beasts and ghost fog, and this king will go over together. ”

The fleeing Thirteen Lang could still reply, and said sarcastically: "Transcendence is not what this king should do, and the master is so unreasonable." ”

The monk smiled slightly, his bitter but not sad face showed a little satisfaction, and said slowly: "The Buddha is in the heart, and the title is only for the appearance; ”

He heard that Thirteen Lang was unwilling, helpless, and a little nervous and breathless; the monk's realm was superb, and his Buddha nature was empty, and he could distinguish his authenticity from falsehood. Mr. Eight Fingers forced himself to compose, but he couldn't hide his fatigue, and although he tried his best to support it, how long could he hold on.

Thirteen Lang turned into a large circle in the air, raised his hand and released a few arcs of electricity to split the flower path that chased to his feet, and shouted in his mouth: "In this case, I call you a wild dog, do you dare to respond?"

This kind of talk is too boring, the monk doesn't bother to pay attention to him, but the speed of twisting his fingers is even more urgent. The flower road popped out suddenly like a snake stretching out its neck, and Thirteen Lang was suddenly in a hurry, shouting and running for his life all the way, and the embarrassment was indescribable.

The monk sighed and said, "What a wild dog." ”

With a mockery, Thirteen Lang himself felt bored, and shouted angrily while fleeing for his life: "Dignified overhaul, Buddhist monk, as for being so stingy." ”

The monk's expression remained unchanged and said: "The three precepts of greed, ignorance, and hatred, this king does not lack everything, and he must not be generous." ”

Thirteen Lang was helpless and said, "Okay, how many sons are you of the Mountain King? ”

The monk said lightly: "This king doesn't understand, why do you think about this. ”

Thirteen Lang said, "You take care of me." ”

The monk thought for a moment and responded, "You take care of me." ”

Thirteen Lang was furious and shouted, "What a shameless bald donkey. ”

The monk was unmoved, and the hands of twisting flowers changed from one to two, and the flower path suddenly spread into a sea. As far as the eye can see, the monk is like an old tree standing in a sea of flowers, giving people the feeling of standing up to the sky, while Shisanlang is like a butterfly chased by flowers, flying rapidly, but the space that can move is getting smaller and smaller, and it is gradually becoming desperate. The sound of chanting in the sea of flowers is very prosperous, and there seem to be tens of millions of people drinking with it, and there are Hongzhong Dalu to harmonize with it. Countless voices converge, and it is no longer like before it can erode people's minds and minds, but like an endless net, wrapped into a peach from the bottom to the top, and into an extracorporeal Buddha heart.

"Boom!"

"Bell!"

Two loud noises erupted from the monk's mouth, slightly funny because of the nasal blockage, but the people around the battle were shocked except for the blood dance, their eyes were scattered and confused, and their bodies were shaky. It wasn't until the voice died out that the monk exploded the lion roar of Buddhism again, and those people woke up from their disorientation, and their expressions changed drastically.

is still like this outside the field, what kind of situation should Shisanlang bear the Buddha's voice head-on?

"Morning bells and dusk drums, evil obstacles, don't wake up yet!"

In the midst of the shouting, Mr. Eight Fingers' rapidly sweeping figure suddenly stopped, as if he had been summoned by some kind of summoning and pulled by an invisible force to approach the monk's side, and his expression occasionally showed struggle, and the monk immediately opened his lips and drank, repeating the two words.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up"

Awakening is not waking up, sleeping is not sleeping, Shisanlang struggles between sleep and wake, wanders in loss and enlightenment, and finally falls into the sea of flowers like a meteor falling into the earth, and a tired bird falls into the sea of flowers like a nest, lying flat at the feet of the monk.

"What's the problem? ”

The monk's expression was sad, his eyes were pitying, and he casually turned out a golden ring, shook his head and sighed: "Sink into the obstacles, and be cut down in the end, and this king will be exceeded."

The voice was abrupt, and the thirteen langs below suddenly opened their eyes and smiled at him. Tired but clear eyes, a clear smile that disgusted the monk, revealing two rows of neat white teeth.

"Whip the corpse!"

(To be continued......)