"Little master, can you draw one for us?"

I stood on the street, holding a bowl, being a monk of the fate, and I didn't get much food, but I was entangled by a group of female goblins until now.

It's just four or five days, thanks to the blessings of those big cat girls, and also to the trouble caused by the few character paintings I painted for them. Now when I go out, I always have a few nuns in the vicinity.

The first one, the "Flower Demon Path" that is as small as me and has cultivated so badly is really the first time I have seen it. You must know which of the men in the legend of Huajian Dao is not a genius who crosses the sky, at least he is also the true monarch of Yuanying and has been famous for thousands of years. There are even some guys, all of whom have experienced all kinds of love setbacks and thousands of joyful pleasures, and finally they were turned into a myth by the Taoist.

The second, like me, has come to the end of the foundation, a sword qi is invincible, and it can't be concealed at all, at first glance, it is the true seed of which family comes to the door, but he serves a bowl for no reason, begging from door to door to eat, what does this kind of good show leave him without onlookers?

But when they really came into contact, really watched, and really tried to go deeper, they were faintly moved.

Who am I?

I'm Chen Shuihan!

I really worked as a monk in the previous world. Although it was very short, I always remembered what the master who led me to the beginning said and did.

Although I don't know how he, an authentic white Anglo man with assets of half a billion dollars, sold the company after his son's death, left his mansion on the East Side of New York, threw away his car, moved to Mexico, built a temple in a slum, found a lot of children, and followed him to learn those strange scriptures.

But I always understood that he was really a monk.

And in this world, all great powers manifest, all fantasies manifest, and all beliefs are based, but those Buddhism make me more and more disgusted.

I wore plain clothes, stepped on clogs, held pottery bowls, lived in caves, begged for food to be full, drank water to quench thirst, chanted sutras for peace of mind, and portraits only for tranquility.

No fighting, no seeking, no grabbing, no greed, no anger, no resentment, no obsession, no obsession, just like I wielded an invisible sword, cut off my original thousands of mixed thoughts, and killed the original impulsive and ambitious me.

But it was inexplicable that I caught a lot of aura that fit my current state of mind in the endless branches of aura, and I saw many, many gods and Buddhas hidden in it from the vain delusion and delusion of all things that are full of heaven and earth.

True gods and Buddhas.

If I have the heart, as long as I bow down with one head, worship one Buddha, ask for one Buddha name, take refuge with one heart, and sincerely seek a fundamental Buddhist scripture, I will be able to achieve something on the spot. If you can't, you can also open the eyes, ears, mouth, and nose in the six senses.

However, I like the way I am.

As he spoke, the woman in the lead deceived her.

"Isn't the little master also like those stupid men, looking down on the women of our Yin-Yang Sect? Speaking of which, the sects on both sides of us have a relationship, isn't the Dao Leader of your family in charge of Yin and Yang and is in charge of us?"

I sneered inwardly, squinting at her, watching her babble.

Am I really a kid who doesn't know anything, or am I a little guy who likes to be out of position and like to pretend to be in the limelight?

Is it a nonsense you can talk about?

From the batch of sword scriptures that Boss Du You gave me that day, I already knew the prestige of the Taoist Chief, as well as the kind of deeds he had done!

It was a character that could not be described, described, or summarized.

It is very similar to the unknowable, invisible, untouchable, and incomprehensible ancient evil gods of the Cthulhu Mythos in the previous world.

Yin and yang.

The foundation of heaven and earth, the foundation of the evolution of all things, and the source of the creation of living beings.

But who in this world has seen the rumors of the Taoist Leader casting this avenue?

He is the greatest horror in Hokuriku.

He is the Demon Clan's greatest death omen.

He is the most spoofed demon in the world.

He is the black hand of countless people in the world, the driving force behind the tragic death of countless primordial gods, and the initiator of countless disasters and countless changes.

Since he appeared in Qingyun Mountain for 70,000 years, the host of the current seven catastrophes is all him!

I only saw one sentence, the owner of a certain sword scripture once sighed, if the Taoist master is willing, he alone can occupy at least thirty percent of the sword way, and countless people's thoughts will be extinguished.

It was also the first time that I knew that the flying sword ranked first in this world was not the little red sword thrown by the Great Demon King, it was not the supreme pure yang sword on the waist of Sword Immortal Zhuang Boyang, and even the legendary Xuanyuan Sword was one point behind.

It was the Blood River Sky Sword in the Dao Chief's hand.

Condensed from the incarnation of the Extraterrestrial Blood Ancestor who was killed 70,000 years ago, it devoured the wild and unrestrained aura origin of this world, cut off the luck of the demon race with one sword, and laid the sword of the human race as the lord of this world.

Yin-Yang Sect?

Joke?

The lower three sects in the cultivation realm that specialize in piston movement preaching are famous for their complex spell systems, chaotic aura systems, and sect systems that penetrate into the secular world and cannot be sunk. The most are all kinds of demons, obscene monks, incense thieves, flower thieves, catering to those powerful and energetic emperors, generals, and gate valve families, doing countless and countless ugly things, and harming countless and countless women.

The most will be killed by someone as a target, and one out of ten will always be a guy from this sect.

But I don't discriminate against them.

The cultivator sects in this world that are worse than them are like the Milky Way in the sky, and they are like the number of sand at the bottom of the river, and there are not many of them. The beetle cultivators, evil cultivators, demon cultivators, evil cultivators, sin cultivators, delusional cultivators, and pseudo-cultivators in this world who are more damned than them are like fertile soil, covering the land of this heaven and earth.

So I found a piece of bluestone at random, pulled out a piece of plain paper, hung it in the air, took out a paintbrush from my arms, clicked on the water, and raised my hand to draw.

Is it true that I am a monk with a pure heart and few desires, and I am bound by the rules and precepts, and I don't even dare to raise my hands to look at women, and I don't understand the woman's style, and I don't know the joy of yin and yang?

Blind your eyes!

My pen draws slowly.

The woman's breathing was slow, tight.

My gaze is like water, it never changes.

The woman over there had her eyes watery, and she looked a little gone.

My hand is as steady as an axe, and I don't move.

The woman over there was already moved and clamped her legs.

Do you really dare to flirt with women?

After a painting was completed, I stood up calmly, folded my palms, bowed my head and said silently: "Several female donors, you begged me, I have done what I asked for you, can you give alms?"

Without it, a bowl of white rice, a glass of cloudy wine, and a plate of tempeh.

The woman in the lead restrained her expression, and snatched back my spring painting of the charm and satisfaction of the gods at the peak of the joy from the hands of those women who didn't know the depths yet. But it is like a knife cutting, cracking and sinking, only telling the wonder of the love of men and women, the source of life and reproduction.

It doesn't matter that the woman in the painting is just a military prostitute with a humble status, and it doesn't matter that the man in the painting is cannon fodder for breaking the formation and killing people, and it doesn't matter that these two people are originally hostile sides.

Just as I just want to have a full stomach.

It's just a pleasure.