"Brother, that little lady seems to be a little interesting to you!" After Zhao Ling'er left, the big monk said with a smile in his ear on the night of the funeral.

Funeral Night smiled: "Damn charm, I'm tired, really!"

The big monk had a black face, and there was a kind of anger of "believe it or not, the poor monk killed you"!

I saw it on the night of the funeral, but I didn't say it, and there was no need to say it, just because the monk was jealous.

"What about the girl?" Wang Xiaosong also walked over.

Funeral Night pointed to the ruins behind him: "I heard that I went to play over there." ”

"I'm not talking about her!"

"Sakurako?" asked Funeral Night.

Wang Xiaosong nodded: "I think her identity is very suspicious, you have to be careful, don't be sold and count the money to others, heroes are no exception, because heroes are also sad to pass the beauty pass." ”

The funeral night looked at Wang Xiaosong, and then said meaningfully: "I think she is better than you!"

Wang Xiaosong: "......"

Others chat and talk about happiness, and chat and worry about the funeral night.

It's all about the heart, but the feeling is completely different.

Night is about to fall, a bonfire is built in the ruins, and some players bring a lot of game, and grill it on the bonfire, and it will not be fragrant, which is very appetizing.

The great monk went to say hello happily, he was familiar and extraordinarily approachable.

It didn't take long to get a goat's leg to gnaw, and my mouth was full of oil.

Wang Xiaosong received the secret order and left with a few people.

The scholar in white still stood on the high ruins, motionless, like a sculpture.

His eyes were still looking into the distance, it was another way, and it was the one that the old way supported.

The singing started slowly, and the clapping was rhythmic.

Zhao Ling'er danced around the bonfire, she had a beautiful posture, and her thin waist was like a water snake, which was very beautiful and charming.

She...... It's really nice to dance!

I like and appreciate the funeral night from the bottom of my heart, but the more this happens, the more blocked his heart becomes.

Damn comparison, how will Lao Tzu practice "Channeling Technique" in the future.

On the night of the funeral, I found that everyone was very chatty, in groups of three or five, talking and laughing, very harmonious and warm.

I am different from the scholar in white, but the essence is different.

The white-clothed scholar is not a firework in the world, but a crane high above.

What is himself? A bit famous, that's also the name of the broken embryo, in the eyes of these, not stuck at all.

So I'm a local chicken, and I'm not even as good.

Although the great monk can talk to himself, he has forgotten his brother who was born and died in order to eat meat.

Or, there are too many people to talk to him, and there is no shortage of himself.

Wang Xiaosong can also talk, but he is capable, and he was transferred to a secret mission.

The night was very deep, and there were a lot of people, at least a few hundred years old.

But the night of the funeral was lonely, isolated, and despised.

"If Qingluan and they are better here, they will definitely not be indifferent to me and will not abandon me!"

The people who miss the ghost night flower on the funeral night, even if they betray their ghost hand for some reason, the funeral night is also nostalgic.

He thought about asking, or questioning.

But they all held back, and the funeral night didn't want to break this membrane, because every time he saw the ghost hand, he felt that he saw his dead grandfather.

The same kindness, the same protection, the same old age, the same respectability.

Funeral Night was a little messy, a little annoying, he was afraid of betrayal, afraid of deception.

In the "previous life" of the rivers and lakes, he had no defense, no calculations, and could even dig out his heart to the other party.

But...... But in exchange for what?

Treachery!

Deceit!

Even fatal!

This is the rivers and lakes, this is life, this is human nature, this is red dust.

He took out the bone flute on the night of the funeral, he was very confused, and he needed to use the song to calm the restlessness in his heart.

The bone flute is a special medium, and it also emits a special rhythm.

A song "Rolling Red Dust" recounts this sorrow, describing depression and helplessness.

Zhao Ling'er stopped looking and looked towards the lonely funeral night in the distance.

The rhythmic beat also stopped, and they didn't want to stop, even if the bone flute sounded good, but the person who played the flute didn't like it.

Inexplicable disgust, so no matter how good it sounds, I pretend not to listen.

But Zhao Linger stopped dancing, who is the beat for?

The great monk frowned, the pig's trotters that had just been put in his mouth fell to the ground, and he rushed towards the funeral night like burning his buttocks.

"Stop, stop, don't blow it, others play the flute for the sake of the ear, you play the flute for the sake of death!"

Everyone was dumbfounded, you look at me, I look at you, I can't make sense that the big monk is making trouble.

Did he ever break his heart? So he became a monk and broke off his seven passions and six desires?

But they misunderstood the great monk, because the great monk had personally experienced the horror of the flute, in the back mountain of the Iron Sword Gate, or the hunting ground of the Wansheng Sect.

The sound of a flute on the night of the funeral almost didn't make the head of the Iron Sword Sect die, and he still remembers it vividly.

I woke up suddenly on the night of the funeral, and I was suddenly afraid.

It's a wilderness, and if something comes out, it's not fun.

"Boy, you can't blow this flute indiscriminately, the poor monk can't afford it!" The great monk was very patient and loving like comforting a crying child.

"If you don't blow it, if you don't blow it, you just don't blow it!"

On the night of the funeral, he put away the bone flute and sat down silently.

The man in white still stood tall above the ruins, quiet as if it didn't exist.

But his eyes were now focused on Funeral Night, and his ears were moving, albeit slightly, but they were moving.

Because when he felt the sound of the flute, it seemed that something was approaching, angry, unwilling, maybe sorrowful, or longing.

In short, there are a few breaths that make the white-clothed scholars feel afraid to approach.

But after the flute stopped, those breaths quietly retreated, as if they had never been there!

"Who is this kid?"

Only then did the scholar in white notice that it was not that he was cold and arrogant, but that he was thinking about things, and many, many things could mess up your brain.

So he didn't pay attention to everyone, just looked at the head that came twice.

"Could it be him?" the white-clothed scholar suddenly remembered the person recommended by the great monk and Wang Xiaosong.

In fact, they didn't pay attention to it, they just cast a big net, in order to catch more fish, but they never deliberately targeted a certain one, as long as they could access the Internet, they would treat them equally.

However, Mr. Hu seems to have mentioned this fish, although it was only mentioned casually, but the scholar in white still remembered it.

Because Mr. Hu rarely mentions a person like this, and everyone he mentions is very unusual later, at least in the rivers and lakes.

Such as oneself, such as the way of destroying demons.

"Funeral Night...... He's the Funeral Night, the Funeral Night who created his own strange elixir and can refine the ground-level gold creation medicine? Well, it seems that there are still some doorways, but the cultivation is too weak, so weak that I can't even find a reason to reuse him. ”

The scholar in white muttered to himself.

(End of chapter)