Evening.

The last rays of the setting sun shone on Mr. Fang's already hideous face.

The monk's description of the battle in the snow field also ignited Mr. Fang's memory of those song-like years.

In that period of the past, not only the glory of those who stood at the top left their names in history, but also the blood and sweat shed by the group of people below the top.

Cangliang Mountain, Ningzhou City, Demon Sect Five Courts······ In every place, there is a story that can be sung and cried, and behind the background of this tearful snowfield, in addition to those who are calm and relaxed, there is more of the pain of ordinary people's parting and the sadness of separation.

Although the holy hand scholar who was excellent in poetry and painting back then was not as famous as the protector of Tantuo Temple, the genius of the island city who had already annihilated countless enemies in many battles in the snow field and broke through two realms in a row before the Atrium War really caused a lot of sensation in that vast snowfield.

At that time, he was born in the island city but never entered the tower courtyard, and even became the object of pursuit and absorption by major forces, envying everyone's eyes.

In the battle in the atrium, the Holy Hand Scholar was known as the black and white demon who had not encountered a genius in a hundred years in the Demon Sect, and he himself fell into two realms in a row.

The snow field returned, and the Holy Hand Scholar disappeared from then on.

Thinking of these, Mr. Fang's hideous face appeared a faint yearning, the pen in his hand that had been dusty for many years was like a divine help, and the strokes written became more and more vigorous and powerful.

Every stroke of the fierce force penetrated the blue light wall, and it was quite bold to penetrate the back of the paper.

"Under the desolate mountain, the Cangjiang River flows, and the blue wolf and goshawk compete for freedom.

The snow-covered stone path is covered by snow, and the sunset falls in Ningzhou.

The three armies rushed outside the atrium, and the two ghosts hung their blades.

On the day of the name of the Snow Devil's Nest, the Laoshan Mountain in the East China Sea will see autumn. “

Yu Shuhan followed Mr. Fang's pen and slowly read word by word.

Every word that burst out of his mouth was as loud as striking a bell, and the aftermath bypassed the blue light wall and went straight to the monk behind him who was striking the wooden fish.

Behind the blue light wall, the monk's smooth cheeks and flat straight body, the body cut by the strength of the strokes on the back of the paper, dense blood marks and wisps of clothes, made the monk who was usually round and jade fall off the altar.

The monk shook his tattered straight jacket, sat cross-legged with an expressionless face, and recited words in his mouth, those words that were read out by the monk blurted out as if solidified, turned into cyan characters, and fell around the monk with an uproar, the words were superimposed, the words were piled up, and the monk was wrapped in an instant, and the flood of Shuhan passing around the wall was blocked outside.

On the blue light wall, the mantra of Buddhism flickered and flickered.

However, the poem written by Mr. Fang on it is as big as the seven laws of the majestic fight, but it is as constant as an engraving.

Mr. Fang finished writing the last pen, and he was exhausted.

The last stroke of the autumn word is too deep, and it seems that the pen can't be pulled out.

Mr. Fang held the pen and hung it on the blue wall like this.

"What a holy hand scholar Fang Jianqiu!" Yu Shuhan raised his hands and raised his thumb at the same time, praising him, "Sir's poem will never lose the style of the snow field back then, and today's Mr. is the real sir." ”

Mr. Fang looked at Yu Shuhan gratefully, wanting to say something, but he felt very tired, nodded, and patted the hem of his shirt.

'Bang' The iron abacus fell from his clothes.

Mr. Fang looked down at the fallen iron abacus, smiled bitterly, and a trace of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't need this thing anymore, it's not difficult to borrow it and borrow it again, and I'll give it back to you now." ”

Yu Shuhan walked under the Qingguang wall, bent down and picked up the iron abacus, shook it up and down, leveled the abacus, raised his head and asked Mr. Fang, "What is the name of your seven-law poem?"

"Let's call it "Demon Breaking Song"!"

"Well, this poem is going to be famous. You have always deliberately erased the shadow of yourself all these years, but you don't know that only today, the holy hand scholar who is unique in poetry and painting is back, this is the real yourself. ”

"Even Lao Liu wants to do this last shift, how can I fall behind?"

"Well, that's right. Yu Shuhan's voice suddenly raised a lot, "If you hadn't fallen to the point of irreversibility back then, how could the dignified Holy Hand Scholar be a little lower than me, the third gentleman who was the most wasteful wood in the tower courtyard?

After that, Yu Shuhan held the iron abacus in his left hand, and the five fingers of his right hand jumped on the abacus like flying, and the abacus beads 'crackled' happily, and with the sound, a ray of light gushed out, and shot like lightning towards the wall of light.

The arc of light on the wall of light flows, and the mantra of Buddhism gradually dims, but the song "Song of Breaking Demons" is shining with golden light, and the strokes of each word are getting thicker and thicker, and there is a great momentum to break the wall of light.

Behind the wall of light, those solidified characters fused into a pale cyan light mask, protecting the monk's body.

The monk picked up the wooden fish in front of him and stroked it slowly with his hand, and the graceful and luxurious cloud patterns on the surface of the wooden fish were shining brightly, like the most brilliant starry sky at the beginning of the month.

"Before the death of Zen, under this plane tree, watch the golden phoenix come to perch, the phoenix dances for nine days, perched on this branch. The sky is thundering, the phoenix swims, the thunder falls, the Zen nirvana, and the sycamore turns into an ancient. On the scorched earth, only this branch remains. The new Zen Zi made two wooden fish, and covered the thunder with cloud patterns. The poor monk and the senior brother each got one. Today, the thunder is hard to hide, and I hope that the two donors Haihan. ”

The monk raised his hand, and the wooden fish came out of the light mask around the monk's body, stopped above the light mask, and spun abruptly. In the process of rotating, the clouds and clouds rolled, and the rumbling thunder was released from the clouds, and the electric arc mixed with it poured into the blue light wall.

On the wall, the mantra of Buddhism gradually became clear in the flickering, and the thick strokes of the "Demon Breaking Song" were gradually compressed.

Mr. Fang raised his hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, smiled apologetically at Yu Shuhan, who was already struggling with the abacus beads below, raised his eyes to look down at the city of mountains and seas in the afterglow of the sunset, and closed his eyes with satisfaction.

There was a real holy glow bursting out from the body of Mr. Fang, who was hanging, accompanied by the already sparse fishing songs of this island city, like the most real manifestation of the kingdom of God.

In the Holy Radiance, Mr. Fang's body gradually contracted, shrinking into a phantom as light as a feather.

But this phantom seemed to be heavier than Mount Tai, and with the golden brush, it cut through the wall of light and fell to the ground.

The last stroke of this autumn character was straightened down and penetrated through the wall of light.

This is Mr. Fang's last brilliance, and it is also the genius of Mr. Fang's life!

This brushstroke, written with a brush, cut through the wall of light like a sword, and slashed at the monk sitting cross-legged and the light mask.

The wall of light collapsed, and Mr. Fang fell gently.

His body was originally thin and thin, but now he only has a handful of bones left.

Yu Shuhan stopped fiddling with the abacus beads, squatted down and picked up the fluttering body, and with just one glance, tears rained down. The body had shrunk and its clothes were extremely wide. Yu Shuhan pulled up his collar to cover the collapsed cheek, and said softly, "See Qiu, let's go!"

Mr. Fang saw autumn, half a life was brilliant, half a life was indifferent, and at the end of his life, he reappeared brilliantly.

The Si people have passed away, but the sword-like brushwork is still vibrant.

That one stone shattered, tore apart the blue light wall, and slashed at the monk through the air.

'Click', and the cyan light mask in front of the monk immediately cracked.

The pen is still unending, and he resolutely slashes at the meditating monk.

The wooden fish hanging above the monk's head moved, and hit the brushwork, 'Bang', the brushwork finally dissipated, and the surface of the wooden fish was cut into a deep pen mark.

Before the strength was gone, the wooden fish flipped and flew out with the pen mark.

The monk watched the wooden fish fly away, and the light landscape in his eyes was covered with a layer of rare fear.

Immediately after, a figure flew over the monk's head, light and not like the world, 'pop', something hit the monk Aomori's head heavily.

Obviously it was just a light figure floating by, but the monk's head felt like it was being empowered down by a mountain, and the mountain didn't seem to be very peaceful. The top of the monk's rock-solid head felt like it was being crushed.

After Yu Shuhan struck, he flew away, "Little Protector, Mr. Fang is the world-famous saint scholar Fang Jianqiu, I can't imagine it, right? Actually, I didn't expect it, I didn't expect that after so many years, he would still have such a heroic ending." ”

The monk raised his hand and touched the top of his head, and sighed, "Can you remember the past? ”

Yu Shuhan spun and floated back, swept over the monk's head again, waved the iron abacus in his hand and hit the top of the monk's head again.

"This is what I promised Lao Liu, he allowed you to make a fuss in the City Lord's Mansion, and it was I who promised him to knock your bald head with the iron abacus in his hand. I've never looked at this old fellow squarely, and I never thought that he also had a lot of blood. ”

The monk put away the glamstick, groped with his hands above his head for a while, and now finally saw clearly that the uneven mountain was the iron abacus in Yu Shuhan's hand.

"The donor still fails to get his wish, what's the use of you knocking it down like this? Although the poor monk can't be vajra and not be bad, he won't be suppressed by your abacus beads, what is the use of the donor's futile efforts?"

Yu Shuhan brushed it, leveled the abacus beads, and swept it again, and the iron abacus in his hand staggered towards the bare head, but this time, above the head, there was an extra hand covered with scratches, 'pop', the abacus slapped on the palm, the palm did not move, and the person wielding the abacus staggered in the process of flying.

"Monk, have you ever thought about how you can transcend the sins you have created?"

The monk clasped his hands together and secretly made a handprint in his hand.

"If you can't cross it, you will die, and if you can cross it, you will eventually reach nirvana, life and death, grievances and grievances, where can there be a fixed number?"

Yu Shuhan adjusted his posture, and instead of flying farther, he swept very high.

"As a high monk, how can you say such an indefinite nonsense, Mr. Fang and I know that we are not your opponents, but we are still willing to ask you, my Buddha is compassionate, is it compassion or ······ Evil?"

The sky finally darkened, but the surface of the iron abacus was lit with rust-colored flames.

The monk saw that the burning abacus had already floated directly above him, and the burning was getting more and more intense.

Yu Shuhan held the blazing abacus in one hand, and the abacus burst forward, like a hanging palm, swooping down from the sky, and actually used the secret of Buddhism······ As for the palm of God.

In the process of diving, Yu Shuhan saw that not far away, Lao Liu lit a street lamp at the entrance of the city lord's mansion and staggered to the place where the next lamp was.

Under the dim light, Lao Liu Luotuo's back gradually grew taller!