The mountains are deep and the trees are dense and the fog is thick, and the true face is not visible.

The idyllic countryside under the mountain is also shrouded in faint cooking smoke, and the wind and smoke are intertwined, like ink smeared with a letter pen.

Zhu An likes the smoke in the sky very much.

For more than 10,000 years, the blurred clouds and smoke have changed day by day and have never been repeated, bringing a touch of change and beauty to his monotonous life.

In the mountains, deep in the clouds, a slender bamboo shadow quietly emerged.

The bamboo body is upright, the bamboo branches are scattered, the slender and verdant bamboo leaves are densely arranged, and the pieces of unevenness poke out, and the petioles hang slightly low, pointing to the world under the mountain.

Zhu An was a man in his previous life, and in this life, he is this mysterious arrow.

The spirituality of man, coupled with the long life of plants and trees, has created this unique variable for him.

The time is long, watching the sun and the moon in the world.

For Zhu An, living is a kind of practice.

Every year's wind, frost, rain and snow will leave subtle traces on his body surface, and countless traces are superimposed layer by layer, forming a vicissitudes of bamboo patterns, like paintings, like symbols, containing infinite mysteries.

When the bamboo pattern becomes more and more dense, Zhu An has more and more abilities.

Finally, he can "walk" without having to stay where he is.

簌簌, 簌簌.

The ground arches slightly, and countless branched roots move underground, pushing away the soil and driving the tall bamboo body to move forward steadily.

Bamboo life is occasionally a little boring, and Zhu An will "take a walk" like this, wandering around quietly.

The scope is limited to this remote mountain, the North Mountain.

As for the world outside the mountain, there are human monks, demons and monsters, and all living beings are strife, and the light is strange.

After his cultivation was successful, Zhu An had planned to go out of the mountains, and even out of the world.

But after calculating, it was found that there are still risks in birth, and the outside world seems to be wonderful, but in fact it is secretly murderous.

As a result, he has always maintained a reclusive life, and his body never leaves Kitayama.

At the same time, he was also silently preparing, waiting for the time to go out of the mountain.

As for what to do after going out - Zhu An plans to see the world freely, and if he has the chance, he can also go home to see.

After more than 10,000 years, it seems unrealistic to go home. But here, as long as the realm is high enough, the shackles of time and space are also expected to be broken.

The mountains were cold, and Zhu An shook the top clusters of branches and leaves, recalling the long past. In another world far away, there are still some people to care about.

As he pondered, the entire North Mountain fell silent for a while.

The villagers in the fields below the hill put down their hoes, looked up in confusion, and muttered:

"The wind has stopped."

……

The advantage of being low-key all year round is that in the outside world, there are very few creatures who have heard of "Bamboo of the North Mountain". There is not a single one who knows its true realm.

Even, Zhu An himself doesn't know what his peak strength is, because he hasn't shot with all his might.

I have nothing to do on weekdays, I just practice silently, and I don't care about the world's disputes.

More than 10,000 years have been spent in peace.

For a long time, he was accompanied by Beishan and the small village at the foot of the mountain.

As he walked through a woodland, Zhu An raised a few clusters of branches and leaves, and vaguely heard something.

The sound came with the wind, depressed and frustrated, accompanied by Tao Xun's clumsy song:

"There is no bush of sacred bamboo, and there is no trace of it. Bamboo leaves are only sweet, and there is a sense of understanding. Heylingde, as if the green face ......"

This is a sacrificial poem, Zhu An has heard it tens of thousands of times, and it is very familiar.

The object of sacrifice is his "sacred bamboo". The worshippers are the villagers who have been protected by him for generations.

So, the verdant leaves stretched out, like eyes, reaching out to the idyllic village under the mountain—

In the old but spotless sacrificial hall, hundreds of villagers gathered, with devout faces, offering fruits, vegetables, chickens and ducks, offering incense, prostrating, kneeling on the ground, and praying in a low voice:

"Sacred Bamboo Bless ......"

A gray-haired old man knelt in the first row and sang the ancestral poem "Sacred Bamboo Without Cong".

On the incense table in front, there is no statue, no spirit card.

What the villagers worship is a yellowed bamboo leaf.

In the desolate voice, a strange wind came from the bottom up, from the sacrificial hall, rising into the mountains and forests, bringing a faint smell of sandalwood to Zhu An.

The incense in the world contains the beliefs of all living beings, and it is very miraculous.

Zhu An felt that the aroma smelled very pleasant, so the leaves stretched out and absorbed it all.

A wonderful sense of fulfillment permeates the whole body, activating the accumulation of practice in recent years, and contributing to a small qualitative change.

With a click, the bamboo pole suddenly rose up to form a new piece of bamboo.

"I'm getting taller again." Zhu An shook the bamboo leaves all over his body, and he was in a happy mood.

Ordinary arrow bamboo, how many knots there are in the young bamboo shoots, and how many knots there are in the mature bamboo poles, the two are completely the same.

But Zhu An is different, practice can help him break through his limits, and continue to grow one by one, as if it is endless.

Accepting the sacrifices of the villagers and absorbing the breath of incense is also a method of cultivation, although it is not his major, but occasionally it can be the icing on the cake.

After the new section of the bamboo body was completely grown, Zhu An began to compress the stalk again.

The wood in the body is further solidified, and the bamboo pole becomes shorter and returns to its original height of one zhang.

The higher the bamboo, the more windy it is.

Therefore, Zhu An never reveals his true body, and every time he grows a little, he compresses it a little, and always keeps it at about one zhang.

After more than 10,000 years of cultivation, how tall is the fully stretched bamboo body now?

Zhu An himself didn't know.

……

Unlike the previous annual official sacrifice, this time the sacrifice was relatively sudden, and the villagers had something urgent to ask for-

A child snuck up the hill to play and disappeared.

The area of the North Mountain is very large, composed of several peaks of high and low, containing hidden valleys, deep streams, dangerous cliffs, the terrain is complex, a person falls into it like a stone sinking into the sea, there is no trace.

The villagers found out too late, and it was getting westerly that it was too late to search the whole mountain, and it was about to get dark.

In desperation, the sacred bamboo that has blessed them for generations has become the object of help.

Finding a missing child in the middle of the mountains is as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack, but it is easy for Zhu An.

Spread out your thoughts a little, and the whole mountain will be under control.

Suddenly, countless verdant leaves lifted up in unison, stretching out in all directions, like layers of green round curtains opening up, collecting all the subtle fluctuations and breaths.

Within a radius of dozens of miles, between the ravines and peaks and valleys, every grass and tree entered Zhu'an's field of vision, and the sound of water and cicadas could not escape his listening.

Soon, the smell of a vague human led him to the edge of a cliff.

At the bottom of the cliff, a child in tattered clothes dangled from a tree branch.

The branches with thick forearms are overwhelmed, the skin is cracked inch by inch, and it makes a "click" sound, which may break at any time, and even people and trees fall together.

The child was hit on the back of the head, and his consciousness was blurred, but he still clutched a broken bag in his hand. His eyes barely opened a slit, and his mouth snorted, as if he wanted to say something.

When you encounter danger in the mountains, you immediately call for Shenzhu - this is the survival rule passed down from generation to generation.

The elder's teachings came to mind, and the child tried to cry out for help from the mysterious being.

But dizzy, the complete words can no longer be spoken.

"God, God—"

In desperation, the child heard the sound of squirming.

In the blurred vision, the blue shadow of the sky suddenly appeared, like a verdant rain curtain sprinkled down, and the faint fragrance of bamboo leaves lingered in the wind.

A gentle force enveloped him.

The child was startled and wanted to see what was going on, but he couldn't open his eyes.

The body became lilt, as if flying.

After a moment of trance, the child had reached the foot of the mountain, his head was no longer dizzy, and his body had regained its strength.

The child raised the tattered burden in his hand, opened it to take a look, grinned excitedly, and then knelt down and kowtowed heavily in the direction of the mountain.

The small village was a sensation, with the sound of footsteps, sobbing, reprimand, and crisp crackling.

"Baby's naughty, your father is in a hurry to die."

"Hit lightly, lightly, Lord Shenzhu will save me......"

After the beating, the child sobbed as he pulled out a few crumpled crumpled coptis plants from his broken baggage.

"Dad, I've really grown up, and I can help you go up the mountain to collect medicine."

The father holding the wicker was suddenly silent.

At the entrance of the ancestral hall, the white-haired old man who had been singing sacrificial poems before was walking on crutches, leaning on crutches, and slowly paced out.

Listening to the child's story of Fang Cai's miraculous experience, the white-haired old man couldn't help but be moved, turned to look at the deep mountain, and sighed in a hoarse voice:

"It's indeed Lord Shenzhu, the last time his old man appeared was fifty years ago."

When the older villagers heard this, they remembered the past and showed palpitations.

Fifty years ago, on that summer day, black clouds suddenly enveloped the mountains, and the continuous torrential rain merged into an upside-down hanging river, washing down from the sky, and the sound of violent raindrops filled the whole world.

On that day, the villagers gathered and began to discuss whether to evacuate the village.

I heard a bang outside, the ground cracked and the mountain collapsed, and the tremors continued.

The old man, who was still young at the time, hurried out of the door, froze for a moment, staring at the mountain in despair—

The rushing waters of the road converged into a torrent, blatantly knocking down rows of trees, carrying a huge amount of sand, gravel and earth, rolling down, and the sound of the waves was like thunder, making the mountains tremble.

A sudden flash flood engulfed everything in its path, and the turbid waves turned dark yellow, turning into terrifying mudslides.

The mudslide came so quickly and so suddenly that the villagers at the foot of the mountain had no time to evacuate, so they could only stretch out their trembling hands and slowly cover the children's eyes.

On that day, the old man saw with his own eyes that all the older generation trembled and walked out, standing in front of the whole village, and fell to the ground with a puff, kowtowing vigorously, and shouting in his mouth:

"Divine Bamboo Bless!"

In the face of the irresistible power of heaven and earth, can Shenzhu really protect them? At that time, the old man was still skeptical.

The next moment, the sky was full of wind and rain.

In the dim world, a figure rose from the ground, growing higher and higher, piercing the rain curtain and reaching into the sky.

Zhu An stood at the foot of the mountain, but he was already above the top of the mountain.

Glancing at the mountains of dark clouds around him, Zhu An did not push them away, but buried the branches and leaves in the depths of the black clouds, and took the initiative to hide his figure.

At the same time, tens of thousands of roots stretch out, spread, and dig deep into the soil, locking everything in.

Large swaths of loose rocks immediately stabilized, and the impact of the mudslide slowed down considerably.

Insist that Qingshan does not relax, this is the natural magic power of bamboo.

In the village, because it was too dark, everyone did not see the green bamboo that reached the sky, but found that the mudslide was obviously coming slowly.

"Shenzhu has appeared!"

The villagers were so excited that they cried and laughed, turned around one after another, and while thanking Shenzhu repeatedly, they ran towards the heights.

The old man grabbed his wife and children, and climbed up a high slope panting, but he still remembered in his heart, where is the legendary sacred bamboo?

He couldn't help but be curious, and quietly looked back.

It just so happened that a miserable white electric light flashed, illuminating the dim North Mountain in an instant, allowing the old man to see an unforgettable scene in his life-

Under the dark clouds, the vast wind and rain.

A faint bamboo shadow, standing on the ground, up to the sky.