Ling Muyun had a dream.

Ancient altars, complicated sigils.

Twelve black-clad men, cloaked and disheveled, knelt around the altar and prayed reverently.

In the middle of the altar, a cloud of black gas "sits" on it.

As for why do you say "sit"? Ling Muyun didn't understand, and he didn't know.

He tried to hear what the man in black was saying, but he couldn't hear it clearly.

The screen turns, and he appears in a large black hall.

The pillars were carved with patterns like the ones he had just seen.

Lifelike.

It seems that prayers can still be heard in the painting.

And so it is with the twelve pillars.

"Could it be that these are the six realms? Underworld? Youzhou? ”

Ling Muyun speculated.

The screen turns again.

It was hazy in front of me, and the sky was sprinkled with paper ashes.

A funeral procession slowly moved forward.

Ling Muyun subconsciously moved out of the way, but no one in the team stopped to look at Ling Muyun.

It was as if he were transparent.

Ling Muyun was equally curious.

Suona, vocal music, and wailing, it stands to reason that it should be completely earth-shattering, but now, the world seems to have no sound.

Ling Muyun gouged out his ears, but still couldn't hear any sound.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't make any sound.

It seems that all senses are gone, except for sight.

In the midst of his doubts, he found himself in a thatched hut at some point.

The murmuring water and the singing of birds and the fragrance of flowers echo each other.

"Sit!"

An abrupt voice appeared behind him.

Ling Muyun subconsciously turned around to defend, only to find that the ink blade was gone, and there was no trace of cultivation.

"Dare to ask sir, where is this?" Ling Muyun bowed.

"Does the little boy think that the old tea is not well brewed?"

The old man wore a white robe, a pair of loose white trousers, and the eye-catching thing was the red cloth belt around his waist, which was tied indiscriminately.

Kind eyebrows, but there is a sharp look in his eyes, it seems that he can penetrate everything.

"Thank you, sir."

Ling Muyun couldn't see any malice in the old man.

Sitting calmly across from it, he picked up his teacup and took a sip.

It is colorless and odorless, and it doesn't even feel like a liquid is flowing.

But he clearly saw that the tea had decreased, and it seemed to flow into his throat, and it seemed, no.

"How?"

The old man held the teapot and refilled a cup for Ling Muyun.

"Frankly, it's not good, it's not even as bland." Ling Muyun shook his head helplessly.

"Haha, the little boy is still so direct."

The old man laughed loudly, drank a cup of his own, and read, "Good tea, good tea." ”

"Where is this, sir?"

Waiting for the old man to put down the teacup, Ling Muyun asked again.

"Old and white." The old man answered the question.

"Under Ling Muyun." After Ling Muyun finished speaking, he saw that the old man was no longer speechless, and continued to find the topic: "I originally had a knife, I called him Mozhi, and later, in Qiuzi, there was a blacksmith, who said that his name was Moluo Youbai. ”

The old man's face was blue.

Ling Muyun also felt a little speechless for a while: "Mr. Gang mentioned the name, I suddenly thought that I offended Mr., please forgive me." ”

The old man shook his head and smiled bitterly: "Little boy, I said that I am Moluo Youbai, can you believe it?" ”

"Grass, dreaming!"

Ling Muyun blurted out.

He couldn't believe that Moluo Youbai was a person.

This was more than he knew.

"It's not a dream!"

"Oh? I see, you're a ghost, you're here to tease me! Ling Muyun's face suddenly realized.

"Boom!"

The old man couldn't help but be full of anger, and gave Ling Muyun a burst of anger.

"Lao Tzu's name is Youbai, it's your ink blade!"

"I've been with you for more than ten years, in addition to using Lao Tzu as a burning stick to burn the fire, you are lifting the curtain, but you have seriously understood the whiteness of Moluo?"

"Cripple Nine tells you that you don't wake up!"

"Zhang Tianshi beat you, and you don't wake up! Ou Yezi's descendants, you are so clear, you ......"

The old man's voice stopped abruptly, and then he said with a panicked face: "It's broken." ”

"What's broken?" Ling Muyun asked subconsciously.

"Look!"

Ling Muyun followed the old man's voice and said, "Go back!" ”

I felt a hard kick in the buttocks.

I was about to turn my head, but I felt that my neck was stiff and I couldn't twist it.

Immediately afterward, a pain that penetrated deep into the soul came.

He has strong perseverance, and he still keeps shouting "ouch", as if he is about to die at any time.

"With Zhenqi, mobilize the thunder method and attack the body!"

In Ling Muyun's mind, the voice of the old man suddenly appeared.

"You ......" Ling Muyun's throat was like swallowing red coal, burning so that he couldn't speak.

With difficulty, he mobilized a trace of true qi, and pressed the palm thunder on his chest.

That long-lost numbness spread all over the body.

The pain was relieved a lot in an instant.

"Don't stop!"

Ling Muyun followed the old man's prompt, and the palm thunder almost covered his whole body, and the last blow hit his head.

The extreme pain disappeared, and a pleasant sense of release couldn't help but make Ling Muyun feel refreshed.

"Sir?" Moaning for a moment, Ling Muyun shouted tentatively.

"You don't have to say anything, I can hear you." The old man said.

"Sir, is it really white?"

Ling Muyun said, lifting the ink blade in his hand and placing it in front of his eyes to examine it carefully.

Except for the blade of the blade, there is an extremely thin red line, and there is no other change.

"In the human world, it is useless to talk too much, but it only increases extravagant hopes. One day, the little boy opened the gate of heaven and arrived at the heavenly realm, which was naturally transparent. ”

The old man's words made Ling Muyun frown.

"No matter how you speak, it's mysterious, and it's so uncomfortable."

"The human world is too small." The old man sighed: "The little boy must remember the following matters......

Learn to hide from yourself.

There are seven styles of ink blades, which are not the seven methods mentioned by Liu Ziji, the styles are different, and the first style needs to be learned in the human world.

Moluo Youbai is the name given by Ou Yezi, his own name is Youbai, not Moluo Youbai, as for the meaning of the name, when he reaches the upper realm, it is difficult to know it.

"How do I feel like you're giving an account of what's going on!"

Ling Muyun was very familiar with the old man's tone, as if he had seen a lame nine.

"What's the aftermath?" The old man suddenly woke up: "Little boy, when you rest at night, you can meditate and practice, which is beneficial to your dantian things, and it is also beneficial to me." ”

"Oh? I will work hard. ”

Ling Muyun inked a few words, but when he didn't see the old man's reply, he shouted at the ink blade:

"Sir?"

"Grandpa Yubai?"

"White?"

"What's going on?"

Still not seeing the old man's voice, Ling Muyun kicked the ink blade twice, but still did not react.

"Let's talk about it later! It is a great blessing to be able to escape his life. ”

Before the words fell, Ling Muyun's eyes were full of bright red, stumps and broken arms, which made him look terrified.

"Is it the Ink Blade? Or did there be infighting? ”

Didn't he faint from the flames of the captured Asheng?

Now, except for the unclothed body, there is no injury.

It must have been killed by Yubai.

Ling Muyun tapped on the blade of the knife, and after repeatedly confirming that there was no response, he inserted the scabbard.

Then groped around the captive Asheng and Tong Dan.

Two books, an arrow, and nothing else.

"It feels good to be searched after the war."

Ling Muyun admired while following the road and rushed back to Nanyang County.