March.

Small bridges and flowing water, weeping willows on the shore.

The sun is soft, reflecting on a pretty face, reflecting a bright spring light.

A woman in a plain robe with a single ponytail walks onto a small bridge with a flower basket.

Her eyebrows are picturesque, the corners of her lips are slightly raised, with a bit of heroism, standing on the bridge, her figure is slender.

The men who passed by around couldn't help but look at her a few more times, with amazement in their eyes.

There were a few bold ones, relying on their identities as one of the few late-stage Qi practitioners in this town, and they had already walked towards the woman with a wicked smile.

"This fellow Daoist, would you like to be my fellow Daoist? I'll make you comfortable. ”

One of them looked the woman up and down, undisguised the desire in his eyes.

The woman turned her head, her side face reflected the sun, and she was even more bright and heroic, but a sneer appeared on her face:

"You don't deserve it."

"What did you say?!" The faces of those people were ugly, and they were about to make a move, when a person suddenly stepped forward and stood in front of the woman:

"We and the righteous monks should hoe the strong and help the weak, and support justice, what kind of practice do you have to do like this?"

This man was wearing a Taoist robe, his hair was neatly bunned, and he had a righteous face, blocking in front of the woman, and he had a kind of domineering spirit.

However, the next moment, the man was knocked to the ground by the wandering monks.

"This little bit of cultivation dares to be strong?"

"Look for death!"

"Abolish his spiritual field!"

The three of them sneered, and were about to make a move, when a few lotus petals suddenly floated in the flowing water under the bridge, fluttering, and swept past those people.

The movements of these people froze suddenly, and the expressions on their faces froze, as if they had suddenly turned into several statues.

The man whose face was covered in blood, who had been beaten, stood up and said loudly:

"The righteous path has its own heavenly help, and you wait for today's evil deeds to anger the way of heaven, you wait"

"This fellow Daoist, you are injured, I have pills at home, please come with me."

The handsome and pretty woman said softly to him.

"Thank you, I'm fine, huh?"

Before the man could finish speaking, he found that he had involuntarily followed the woman.

He was surprised that the woman had led him down the stone bridge and boarded a small boat on one of the shores.

The woman got on the boat, but the man stood on the shore and looked at her, and the woman looked back and smiled:

"My home is on the other side, this fellow Daoist, I am grateful for your help, I just want to treat your injuries, and I have no other intentions."

The woman's smile was as gentle as rippling water waves, so that the man couldn't take his eyes off it for a while.

The man got on the boat, and the woman picked up the oars, paddled gently, her red lips slightly opened, and sang an unknown ballad:

"In March, I will stop at the bridge to appreciate the lotus, I just hope that Lang Jun will pity me, the boat will go home along the river, and the spring breeze and willows will form a good relationship."

The woman's eyebrows are heroic, but her singing voice is gentle and melodious, and the man is fascinated by it.

Even the bodies of the monks who were standing on the small bridge behind them suddenly broke into several pieces, causing the surrounding people to scream in horror.

"This fellow Daoist, where did the lotus come from in March?"

When the woman finished singing, he couldn't help but ask.

The woman rowed the oars, the water murmured, and the boat smiled at him:

"You just saw it, didn't you see it?"

The man scratched his cheek and arched his hand:

"This fellow Daoist has not yet asked for his name."

The woman put down the oars, brushed the slightly messy green silk on her forehead, and arched her hand:

"Sheng Tanglian."

"Spring and summer intersect, and the begonia lotus is in full bloom." The man exclaimed, "Good name." ”

A smile appeared on his face, and his voice was clear:

"My name is Zhenyoko."

In the dilapidated Taoist temple, the light is gone.

A light curtain of images from the past disappears in mid-air.

"Sheng Tanglian?! Zhenyangzi?! ”

"Could it be the two of them?"

The tassel exclaimed, and Si Minglan was also stunned.

"It's actually Zhenyang Patriarch Zhenyangzi and Qinglian Sect Master Sheng Tanglian?"

"That's not right, Sheng Tanglian was killed by Zhenyangzi, and it is possible to leave colored bones, but Zhenyangzi Patriarch has already soared? How can there be colored bones? ”

The colored bones retain the breath and memories of the great power before their deaths, and sometimes they conjure up the deepest memories engraved in their lives, just like Fang Cai.

What appeared in the light curtain was obviously the scene of Sheng Tanglian and Zhenyangzi's first acquaintance.

Looking at it like that, at that time, Zhenyangzi was only a lowly casual cultivator, and Sheng Tanglian's Tanglian recipe was already perfect.

There is a world of difference between the two, but I don't know why Sheng Tanglian is so gentle to Zhenyangzi.

Everyone was in shock, and the two intersecting colored bones in mid-air separated, turned into two rainbows, and flew towards Qiu Zhihe and Mo Xiaolan.

Qiu Zhihe raised his hand slightly, grabbed a piece of colored bone, picked it up and looked at it, it was shaped like a lotus.

Mo Xiaolan also subconsciously reached out and grabbed another piece, and when she looked down, it was shaped like a begonia.

"Colored bones recognize the master?"

Si Minglan looked at this scene in surprise.

The power fell, and although the colored bones were miraculous, most of them had no spiritual intelligence.

Only a very small number of colored bones can retain a bit of the spiritual wisdom of the powerful life because of chance.

However, the spiritual intelligence left behind is also extremely limited, only some instinctive actions, without any autonomous consciousness.

It is extremely rare for colored bones to take the initiative to recognize the Lord like this.

Fang Xue remembered the record of colored bones that she had learned in the monk's spiritual monastery:

"The color bone recognizes the master, perhaps because the person who is recognized has a deep bond with the master, or blood, or the same origin of the exercises."

Qiu Zhihe pinched the colored bone in his hand and said lightly: "There is also a possibility, the spiritual power in the colored bone is surging, and it is in urgent need of catharsis, so it is a random choice." ”

Five hundred years ago, the colored bones of the Qinglian Sect Master chose her, what would Qin Gengqian think?

Will there be any doubts about her identity?

Fang Xue was stunned for a moment, nodded and said, "Sister Qiu is right, there is indeed such a possibility. ”

A few people were talking, but they saw that the colored bones in the hands of Qiu Zhihe and Mo Xiaolan suddenly dimmed, and the light was no longer there, and they turned into ordinary bones.

"What's going on?"

Everyone froze, but they had never heard of it.

Mo Xiaolan thought for a while, and handed the colored bone to Qiu Zhihe: "This colored bone should have nothing to do with me, you and Qin Geng are in love with each other, it is better for the two of you to hold a piece, and it can be regarded as a token between husband and wife." ”

Qiu Zhihe shook his head: "Caigu has already chosen you, it is yours, whether it is Sheng Tanglian or Zhenyangzi, it cannot be shirked or escaped." ”

Mo Xiaolan was silent for a moment and nodded: "I understand." ”

Tassel snickered at the side of the look.

The saint is talking about it seriously, but in fact, she didn't know how nervous she was just now, for fear that her uncle would know that she and Sheng Tanglian were of the same origin.

But this Mo Xiaolan is a little strange, the statue of the goddess in the Taoist temple is so similar to her.

Colored bones also chose her.

It seems that this love rival of the saint is not simple.

It's just that I don't know if the colored bone in her hand belongs to the master of Sheng Tang Lotus Sect, or the scumbag Zhenyangzi?

Wait, the saint practiced the Qinglian Gate exercises, and the colored bone that chose her was naturally the master of the Shengtang Lotus Gate.

The piece of iron in Mo Xiaolan's hand must be the scumbag Zhenyangzi!

So, Mo Xiaolan is a descendant of Zhenyangzi?

(End of chapter)