Zhao Wuan actually did not guess the murderer's motive. If the perpetrator is a monk in the temple, then the reason is too obvious.

The Ten Wishes Monk of Shu has always been the leader of Buddhism in the Central Plains. Even though they have been closed all year round, even if the Jiuda Temple received the king of Valan soon after its completion and became a famous temple in the world, even if the new Shu Ten Wish Monks are just some hairy boys - this still cannot shake the status of the Shu Ten Wish Monks in the hearts of the people of the world.

The world is bustling, all for profit, the world is bustling, all for profit.

Buddhism is no exception. Asking incense to drive away ghosts and going over, which one must not cost money? Speaking of monks, there is no copper or silver in their hands, but how can there be a temple in the world that can last without spending money? The empty door is not rootless, even if it is beyond the red dust, it must be based on the world, otherwise, there is no way to survive.

Only the ten wishes of the monks in Shudi, the lonely and poor, devote themselves to the Buddhist scriptures, the poor hold a wooden bowl and pray for the four directions to make offerings, and the upper is to open the altar to preach the scriptures and purify all beings in the world. In the hearts of the people of the world, tens of thousands of monks and nuns in the Great Song Dynasty, no one can be closer to the heart of the Bodhisattva than the ten monks of Shudi.

How can the monks of the world be happy and convinced? Why don't they hold their breath and want to debate the Buddhist scriptures with the monks of Shu Di Ten Wishes, so as to prove that they are also pious people?

This is how the six abbots embarked on the journey with the hope of all the monks of Jiuda Monastery.

However, in Shudi, when they found that the so-called Ten Wishing Monks of Shu were no longer the ten old people who had made grand wishes, but ten teenagers, how did they feel in their hearts?

What's more, how do they feel when they try their best and still can't argue with these ten teenagers?

Why was I defeated at the first altar, but Ci Wai was able to break into seven altars in a row? Why did Ci Long devote himself to the Shu monks, but Ci Xuan, who was his best friend, did not say anything to stop me? Why did I Jiuda Temple have been the leader of Buddhism in the world for many years, but I couldn't even connect with the Zen machine of a young man in Shu?

Hatred, regret, and jealousy quietly grew.

Therefore, if any of the six abbots killed Ci Xuan and Ci Wei, Zhao Wu'an would not be surprised.

What surprised him was Cihong's eyes.

How could those eyes of the Shura ghosts, which were like begging for death, appear on a monk?

Zhao Wu'an abruptly withdrew the sword intent in the box.

Dozens of flying swords with clear sounds scattered into thousands of water droplets in an instant before they touched Cihong's clothes. Cihong's clothes were soaked.

Zhao Wu'an's voice was condensed: "Uncle Cihong......"

Ci Hong's eyes were about to split, he roared, shook the Zen staff in his hand, and rushed towards Zhao Wu'an.

Zhao Wu'an flew back, but it was too late to distance himself, and he was caught in the wind set off by Cihong's Zen staff. Ci Hong's hands were all killing moves, and the Zen staff poked straight at Zhao Wu'an's chest, and after being flashed sideways by Zhao Wu'an, he raised it above his head again, wanting to cut it off in the head.

Zhao Wu'an threw out the sword qi in the box, temporarily blocked Cihong's movements, and narrowly escaped from under the Zen staff, his heels had already reached the threshold of the small courtyard.

The garden is very small, and the pond has already taken up most of the area, if Zhao Wu'an retreats again, he will inevitably leave this side courtyard, and the possibility of being exposed to the vision of others will be greatly increased.

Zhao Wu'an gripped the lanyard of the sword case. Until this moment, he still didn't want to say anything about making a move on Cihong.

Because Tzu Hong's eyes were so terrifying that he was confused, the man who had struggled back from the border of hell.

But if he quits this place at this time, it will be tantamount to making him or Uncle Cihong the target of public criticism, and he will no longer have the shame to stay in Jiuda Temple.

With his mind decided, Zhao Wu'an did not retreat but advanced, and his whole body was condensed on the top of his head. With his bare hands, he struck at the heavy Zen staff.

The look in Cihong's eyes finally loosened at this moment. In the past, it was just a matter of using pond water to fight the enemy, but now, it is actually going to use your bare hands to face the stainless steel Zen staff?

Isn't this son really afraid of death?

Cihong shouted angrily, and the Zen staff in his hand was like a sharp sword, slashing down with all his might!

Zhao Wu'an's eyebrows were calm. The palms brought up their own surging energy, like the Seven Buddhas holding the koi released in the bucket, and holding the Zen staff in Cihong's palm.

"Zhao Wu'an, you're crazy! You're crazy!" Ci Hong said hoarsely.

The auspicious Zen staff was wrapped around thousands of qi, and the purple electricity had already cracked to the point where it was visible to the naked eye, and the dense qi was like a green snake swimming away in all directions, attacking the top of Zhao Wu'an's head.

Zhao Wu'an went upstream, his white clothes bulging all over his body, and the dawn burst in his palms.

I use this as a sword, and my flesh traces the thunder light.

Bang!

Before the two touched, the air between the palm of the hand and the staff had been compressed to the extreme, until the distance was close to three inches, and the approach to each other almost stopped abruptly.

Every inch of the Zen staff is like drilling ice with your fingers, which is not only painful and unbearable, but also slows down.

Cihong's face has darkened a lot, but he can be said to have spent his whole life practicing kung fu on this stick, and now he can't help but say that he has to smash this hammer-like Zen staff on Zhao Wu'an's head, and it doesn't matter if he dies of anger for this!

Cihong's eyes were cracked, and Zhao Wu'an's face was even worse. Even if there is a sword intent of Luo Shen Sword Box behind him, it is extremely difficult to take this staff with his bare hands, and Zhao Wu'an mobilized the strength of his whole body to concentrate in the palm of his hand, but in fact, he has been condensed three inches out of the palm, and the control of the qi is separated from the body, and the sword is controlled in the air, which is a change of soup but not a change of medicine, and there is a truth in the bottom.

It's just that now, there is no divine sword to borrow power from him, a body of internal force, which is equivalent to hitting straight into the air, if you can't bounce Cihong's staff back completely, I'm afraid that my own internal force will be dissipated in the air, and my strength will be exhausted in a short time, and I will have no power to fight back.

The death of Xiao Donglai, the sect leader of the Heavenly Immortal Sect, due to the exhaustion of internal strength, is a lesson from the past, but now, how dare Zhao Wu'an rashly use up his whole body's internal strength when he is fighting against life and death?

It's just to get to the bottom of it.

With all the internal strength of his body condensed outside his hands, Zhao Wu'an asked with difficulty, "Uncle Cihong...... Why?"

"Why?" Ci Hong seemed to hear a joke, and Zhao Wu'an's confused face was reflected in his angry pupils, "Why do you bother asking me why, go ask Ci Xuan, go ask Ci Wei, go ask Abbot Ji Xuan!"

Zhao Wuxin was shocked: "Abbot, he ......?!"

Cihong smiled gloomily, and suddenly increased his strength, and the green tendons on the back of his hand burst out.

"I know you're going to come here, and if you die, with your ability, you'll be able to get to this pond along the vine, I've been waiting for a long time. Cihong's voice was so gloomy that it didn't belong to the world, "I must kill you, not because you hurt others, but because ......"

The auspicious Zen staff seemed to be unable to withstand such force suppression and began to bend, but Cihong still had no intention of stopping, desperately increasing the force on the palm of his hand, obviously a posture of not killing Zhao Wu'an.

Zhao Wu'an frowned: "It's because of ......"

"It's because ...... My disciple, he died at your hands!!" Cihong roared angrily, and the auspicious Zen staff slammed and broke in the middle.

The head of the staff flew out upside down and smashed into the corner of the eaves, making a loud noise, and a squatting beast fell to the ground, shattered to pieces.

Cihong had already reached the point where he would never give up without fighting for life and death, holding a half-broken Zen staff in his hand and poking straight at Zhao Wu'an.

Around Zhao Wu'an, he was full of energy, and he didn't dare to hold it up so much, and he took the sharp weapon in his hand. He dodged Cihong's straight stab sideways, and flew back a few steps without stopping dragging the sword box.

But Tzu Hong was always quick to catch up. One retreat and one advance, there is always a difference in speed, not to mention that Cihong's internal force is only afraid of being above the four grades, and now he has entered a state of madness.

"Give me back my life in vain!" Ci Hong used the broken Zen staff as a sword, and stabbed straight at him, already disregarding life and death, but seeking a battle.

Zhao Wu'an had no other way, so he drove the sword out of the box.

The slender Su curtain is held in his hand. Zhao Wu'an held his sword and whispered: "Break the love." ”

A clear sword roar came from Su Musha's body, and the clear sword light washed away a pool of faint red blood.

Cihong said fiercely: "You really know how to martial arts! You have been hiding martial arts, and you are mixed in the Jiuda Temple, what do you want!"

There is not much internal strength left, and if Zhao Wu'an doesn't want to be exhausted and die by Cihong here, he can only fight back.

Zhao Wu'an flew out with a Su curtain in his hand, and fought with Cihong with a sword move.

Among the Seven Sages of the Big Dipper back then, if Luo Jianqi was the person who had the deepest understanding of swordsmanship, Yan Dao's understanding of sword moves was the first to be the best.

Holding the Su curtain in his hand, liberating this sword intent, even though Zhao Wu'an has not seriously learned swordsmanship, he can also arbitrarily slash and sweep, slash and stab back, and the sword in his hand dances thousands of complicated moves.

Even though the qi in his chest was almost exhausted, Zhao Wu'an still tried to calm down this uncle's emotions and said, "Senior Uncle Cihong, Senior Uncle Hongning, he didn't kill ...... me."

"Shut up, you dare to mention my beloved disciple's name!" Ci Hong shouted fiercely, "I don't care if you killed Ci Xuan Ci Mourning, and no matter why someone wants to frame you, but my disciple's suicide note has already pointed out that you are the murderer." Zhao Wu'an, take your life! I Cihong don't want to fight for this life today, and I want you to go to Jiuquan and make cattle and horses for me!"

Hongning left a suicide note?!

Zhao Wuxin's face shook wildly. Just as Cihong swept in, he couldn't resist in a hurry, so he had to fly out backwards.

One move to gain the upper hand, Cihong did not spare the slightest hand, suddenly raised his breath to catch up, and used all the Buddhist martial arts, using the broken Zen staff as a sword to eliminate demons, and swept towards Zhao Wu'an mercilessly.

Ci Hong's swordsmanship is actually not very good, but Zhao Wu'an really doesn't want to face this uncle who has always respected him, so he has always had reservations. What's more, in today's Jiuda Temple, there may be a time when the wall will have ears, and it will be harmful to rush out with a sword.

Now he is forced to be helpless, although he is out of the Su curtain, he is only holding a sword in his hand. But it is precisely because of this that it is almost difficult to gain the upper hand in the fight against the crazy Cihong.

Ci Hong approached step by step, and the broken Zen staff in his hand was waved vigorously, almost stabbing Zhao Wu'an's throat directly with the Zen staff.

Zhao Wu'an had a hard time.

Cihong said with a hideous face: "Take your life, take your life, take your life!" I have destroyed the clothed mound in the back mountain, how are you qualified to go to my disciple's grave to worship!"

Zhao Wu'an suppressed the anger in his heart and roared angrily: "Hongning was not killed by me!"

"Shut up, Huangkou Xiaoer!!" Cihong raised the broken Zen staff, his eyes cracked.

Zhao Wu'an's eyes showed a look of compassion, and he let go of the hand holding Su Musha.

The cold sword hung in the air.

Beads of sweat the size of beans rolled down Cihong's face, and his face was covered with new curly hair, apparently mad.

"Death, death, go and make cattle and horses for my apprentices, cows and horses, and cows—" Cihong's high-pitched voice stopped abruptly.

Zhao Wu'an looked at Su Musha, who was still hanging in front of him and had not been stabbed, and was slightly stunned.

A sharp knife stabbed out of Cihong's heart, dressed in a black robe, and gradually began to be dyed with blood from his heart.

His face was already pale and blue, and his blue-black lips were moving, and he wanted to roar something, but his throat seemed to be torn apart, and he couldn't even make a sound.

The Zen staff held high had been cut off, and the broken mouth was as sharp as a sword, just like the stubborn but sharp apprentice of his youth.

When the apprentice left, he was actually not young. However, in Cihong's eyes, he never grew up, never memorized the last paragraph of the Huayan Sutra, and would always catch the wind cold at the beginning of spring. The spring he had gone, he seemed to be sicker than ever.

Cihong couldn't let him go, but he knew that he had to let go, because he was going to Shudi, and he carried a glimmer of hope for the entire Jiuda Temple, and wanted to earn a face for the whole temple and in the Central Plains Buddhism.

When he returned defeated, he didn't have many regrets. He has done his best to be a human being, and if he can't make any more progress in Buddhism in this life, he can only be regarded as talented, and he can't complain about outsiders.

It's just that when he returned, his beloved apprentice was only a green tomb. There was a jar of water at the head of the tomb, exuding the smell of the white-clothed layman.

He found the suicide note in Hongning's room, and secretly swore that even if he died, he would seek justice for his disciples.

With the way of treating others as a person, he wants to kill Zhao Wu'an with his own hands, and he wants to make his disciples laugh at Jiuquan!

You are four years old and lonely, and in this world, the only one who can avenge you is your master.

The broken Zen staff fell off Cihong's hand and fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

Cihong closed his eyes and fell into darkness. The sun was shining on me, but my body was still shivering with cold.

I can't avenge you in this life, and I have a guilty conscience for my teacher.

In the next life, then as a master and apprentice.

Cihong's body slowly collapsed in front of Zhao Wu'an, dark red blood gushing out, soaking the already soaked cloth shoes.

Behind the fallen Cihong, stood the trembling Yang Hujiao. As if he had just woken up from a dream, he let go of the knife in his hand and shrank back three or four feet.

As the hanging knife fell to the ground with a loud bang, Zhao Wu'an looked at him steadily and sighed secretly.

"You...... Are you alright?" Yang Hujiao's face turned pale, and he asked in fear, "Princess Jean...... Let's split up to find you, I see you're in danger, so I'll ...... Just ......"

Zhao Wu'an waved his hand, his face was a little gray, and he asked in a deep voice, "Have you seen the abbot?"

Yang Hu was stunned and said, "The abbot said in the morning that he would retreat, but so far, no one has seen him. ”

Zhao Wu'an's face turned pale for a while, and he turned his back to return Su Musha to the sword box, and said in a low voice: "I'll go see him." ”

Yang Hu swallowed his saliva and persuaded in the non-standard Central Plains dialect: "Layman, it's better to rest first......

was rudely interrupted by Zhao Wu'an: "Shut up!"

Yang Hujiao, who was five big and three thick, was so frightened that he shrank back by half a foot.

The fireworks in Zhao Wu'an's pupils burned, like a Buddha lotus falling from the sky.