The Husky and His White Cat Shizun
He walked on the long axis walkway in the front hall of the Temple of Heaven. Every brick and stone at the foot was light, and it was like a thin ice, reflecting his figure.
Hey. Hey. Hey.
Step by step, the empty footsteps echoed in the hall alone.
But the ink is not lonely. He is not alone. He is standing at the end of the trail where the Confucianism is not seen at the end of the pilgrimage. The two sides are full of people, men, women, old, young, and a look. Different faces.
He stood in the middle. It was like a small city. On his left hand side, the corpse of the Confucianism Gate, the people who were sorry for Xu Shuanglin, became despicable people, were delayed, were separated, and executed in various criminal laws. Then he resurrected and revived and executed. On the other side, the song and dance are flat and free.
He even saw Luo Fibre, it should not be the real soul, but the appearance of other dead bodies with illusion, controlled by the sunspots, and the same as the Jin Chengchi.
Luo fibritated and rolled up, at the moment with her husband Chen Bozhen, two people squatted to ease and leisurely.
He also saw the little daughter outside Chen’s staff, sitting next to his brother and nephew, and talking to them with a smile. And Luo Fibre is leaning against Chen Bozhen. When she hears interesting things, she covers her mouth with her sleeves and smiles with a big brow.
This kind of scene is beautiful and dreamy, but it can be seen that the back of the ink is cold.
He paced in this long walkway. Half of the hell, half of heaven, the good and the evil are clearly divided. He is laughing and laughing on the left and suffering on the right.
He walked forward, as if he was walking through the water and the fire, the light and the shadow. He looked to the left, and the hundred butterflies flew in a cluster of flowers. A stream of water came out from behind the pillars. The inside was smashing the wine, next to the wine river. While reading a book leisurely, some people are making poems in poetry, children are laughing, and women are drunk and lying.
He looked to the right, Ding Hao hot, hot cooking oil, a writhing body was poured on the oil, was pulled out of the heart, people cursed each other, biting each other, eyes flashing like a beast .
He also saw the former abbot of the Wuxi Temple, the old monk who planned the blackout of the Lingshan Conference. He was surrounded by three people. Everyone held a small rusty knife in his hand and cut him separately. Faces, legs and brothers, one knife and one knife, the cut flesh quickly recovered, so the old monk couldn’t stop screaming, but only the unspeakable roar - his rumored tongue It has already been ripped off.
The more the ink burns, the more chilling.
He didn't even want to look at both sides, crying, laughing, angry, hi.
On the left, there is a woman who is softly saying: "Life and death, lonely life. Some lovers can't call a lover should..."
On the right side, a woman was bitten by a bad dog and screamed in a scream.
Half of his afterglow sees the light, and half sees the darkness. These light and darkness are absolutely absolute, like the chess pieces on the board, black and white, and clear and clear.
The ink burns only feels a headache.
He stood in the middle, and he simply stopped and squinted his eyes, not willing to see the scene of the nine days of integration with purgatory.
He was in the same place, waiting for his footsteps to catch up with his fast troops.
"The leaves are scared and the dreams are gone..."
"No! Don't do this to me any more! Please beg you! Save me... save me..."
But the sounds on both sides are endless, like an arrow, three points into the wood.
He heard Luo fiercely and gently said to his husband: "Chen Lang, the orange flowers in the courtyard are all open, I will lead you to see, okay?"
He heard Jiang Dongtang’s forefoot door, Qin’s sorrowful laughter: “Tong· rape? Hahahaha, yes, I am a traitor with Nangong Liu! I am a slut, a woman, I am One □ □ □ □ □ —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— ——
Everything is gathered together.
Live, dead.
Real or fantasy?
Is it black or white, is it good or evil?
The sound around it is getting like a tide. The tides and waves are ups and downs. He seems to see two giant dragons breaking out of the water. The moon shines on their frosty scales.
Is that two dragons?
No, that is the two souls of oneself.
I started fighting again, and I was snarling in the spurt of the dragon.
The ground shakes the mountain.
The ink burns can't stand this crazy noise. He grabs his ears, but he still can't stop the two complicated voices. Finally he can't stand it. He has to raise his hand and drop the curse of the snoring.
He slammed his eyes open.
The surrounding scenes have disappeared.
The ink burns.
He is kneeling in the ground - what happened? How did the surrounding scene disappear?
where is he?
Why is it everywhere black, an endless black...
Is it the illusion set by Xu Shuanglin?
The ink burns around and there is nothing. One is dark.
He took a few steps and tried to scream: "Master?"
"Xue Meng?"
"Someone is here?"
No one answered him, black, dead black.
Rao has seen countless storms, and this black is still awkward. He walked forward, his goose bumps on his arms, and he went forward...
Suddenly, he saw a faint white light shining far away in front of him, which seemed to be an exit.
He went to that place.
Suddenly there was a shadow around him, and the faces were not so clear, but he heard the slang of those people, and the tide generally slammed him down.
Those people are squatting, their voices are low, and they converge into a river.
"Congratulations to step on the emperor, life and heaven."
Stepping on the emperor?
He groaned, he trembled, and he shuddered. He went all out with all his strength, but it seemed that there were thousands of hands coming in from all directions to catch him.
"His Majesty--"
"Tai Xianjun Ze is eternal."
"The life is endless, and Fulu is not."
The smoldering was forced to be a little crazy. He tried to break the pair of invisible hands. He ran toward the line of light: "No, not me... walk away... go away!"
"Tai Xianjun..."
But those voices follow the shape, lingering, and the ink burns to see if Xu Shuanglin is smashing the evil spirits of the ghost world. At this moment, they all come out and take him away.
"Why are you going to leave?"
"Emperor, Emperor..."
The ink burned his feet, and his eyes flashed with blazing light. He wanted to go, but all the grievances were trapping him. He was forced to be trapped. He had no way to hide, so he was furious and he turned his head. Suddenly, the sword was squandered, and those illusions were broken into broken darkness.
He looks like a wolf like a leopard.
"Roll!!" he muttered. "Take all the seats! Roll!"
The voice fell and his face was awkward.
He heard someone muttering around and snickering: "This seat?"
"He said this seat... yes... he is talking about this seat..."
"Emperor, where are we wrong? You should also know who you are in your own heart, where did you come from, you can't escape."
The ink burned back with the sword and shook his head: "No, no... not like..."
The black smoke that had been smashed by him was re-gathered, and a vague shadow fell in front of him, and he stepped forward toward him.
The shadow said softly: "What is it?"
"I am not stepping on Xianjun!"
"How come you are not stepping on Xianjun?" The voice is soft and soft, like the thin smoke rising in the summer gauze. "Of course, you have a debt, you can only escape, you can't escape... ..."
"But it's over!" The ink burned staring at the dark shadow. "It's over! Stepping Xianjun has already died in front of the Tongtian Tower. He entered the tomb and has nothing to do with me! I am just... I am just..."
The shadow smiled softly, and the flower was as delicate: "What are you?"
Ink burning: "..."
“Are you just a returning soul?” it asked. “I just saved a memory of the flesh? Are you just an innocent life living under the shadow of the fairy? Or... Are you just a dream?”
If you say that you are still angry and fearful, when this sentence comes out, the emotion of burning is like ice, and the blood around you is frozen.
He was almost a bit stunned. He didn't react. He tried to talk, but he couldn't say a complete sentence for a long time. Later, he spoke, his voice groaned, and the hollowed out pipe only dug a broken word: "……dream?"
"You always think that you have been born again, but who can say it right? Do you think it is true? Is it true that you or me?" The smog is surrounded by him, and the more it gathers Clearly, "You said that you died under the Tongtian Tower, but you are now standing here lively... Are you really dead?"
The ink burned the black smoke.
He no longer trembled, he only felt cold, like an ice cave, and stepped into the abyss.
It’s so cold.
Did he really die?
The chill of Wushan Temple seems to be still immersed in the bone marrow. The fire of the top ten sects of the uprising is like a long snake smashing his neck from the foot of the mountain.
Xue Meng seems to have just stood in front of him, with nothing, tears, and all said: "Ink, put my master, return it to me."
Did he really die?
He remembered that he had taken it down, and he was very devastated. He came to the Tongtian Tower and used his last strength to climb into the tomb and lay in the coffin.
The jellyfish blossoms are very gentle, faintly fragrant, and the sky is full of clouds and shadows.
He closed his eyes...
"Then you open your eyes. You returned to the age of sixteen, and when you get back to everything, you can save it, right?"
The black image is able to see through his heart, laughing and whispering.
"You are back, the death and death are not destroyed, although the Confucianism Gate is turned into a scorched earth for the second time, but it is not what you do. Ye Yexiu did not die, Shi Mingjing did not. You saw your mind, you fell in love with Chu. Late Ning, you became the Mo Zongshi. He finally accepted you. You thought you were free. Now that you are the first of the righteous army, the Qingzheng Dao is the younger generation of young people in the mountains who want to take the leader of the bully, Xu Shuanglin."
A few deaths.
The blood vessels in the neck of the neck swelled in a sudden motion, along with a fierce heartbeat.
The shadow didn't look good, but it was looking at him, and he knew it was glaring at him.
"You want to be beautiful."
The cold sword wears the heart and the fangs pierce the neck.
The smoldering can hear the despair spread in one's own body, the toxins generally spread, and like the deadly poison that he took under the age of 32, spread... immersed in the liver and gallbladder... immersed in the heart...
"You are not born again, you are dead, everyone is dead, Xue Meng is still alive but he hates you." The shadow said, "Now the dream is awake, blink of an eye, step on the fairy, you, Still the Lord of Darkness."
"No..." The smoldering heard someone talking, the voice was so weak and broken, as if it had been defeated countless times and then glued together, and then he was surprised to find that the person who said this voice was actually himself," no……"
He spurred the courage of every drop of blood in every inch of his bones. He stared at his eyes, and there was a madness in his eyes.
"You lie! Nothing! Nothing!!"
He gathered swords and sighed in anger.
The smoky smoke has dispersed.
But its voice did not scatter, it smiled in a low voice: "Lie? But kneel, you might as well look down, what is in your hand, what is it?"
Chapter 217: 217： [蛟山] dreams come up
Hey. Hey. Hey.
Step by step, the empty footsteps echoed in the hall alone.
But the ink is not lonely. He is not alone. He is standing at the end of the trail where the Confucianism is not seen at the end of the pilgrimage. The two sides are full of people, men, women, old, young, and a look. Different faces.
He stood in the middle. It was like a small city. On his left hand side, the corpse of the Confucianism Gate, the people who were sorry for Xu Shuanglin, became despicable people, were delayed, were separated, and executed in various criminal laws. Then he resurrected and revived and executed. On the other side, the song and dance are flat and free.
He even saw Luo Fibre, it should not be the real soul, but the appearance of other dead bodies with illusion, controlled by the sunspots, and the same as the Jin Chengchi.
Luo fibritated and rolled up, at the moment with her husband Chen Bozhen, two people squatted to ease and leisurely.
He also saw the little daughter outside Chen’s staff, sitting next to his brother and nephew, and talking to them with a smile. And Luo Fibre is leaning against Chen Bozhen. When she hears interesting things, she covers her mouth with her sleeves and smiles with a big brow.
This kind of scene is beautiful and dreamy, but it can be seen that the back of the ink is cold.
He paced in this long walkway. Half of the hell, half of heaven, the good and the evil are clearly divided. He is laughing and laughing on the left and suffering on the right.
He walked forward, as if he was walking through the water and the fire, the light and the shadow. He looked to the left, and the hundred butterflies flew in a cluster of flowers. A stream of water came out from behind the pillars. The inside was smashing the wine, next to the wine river. While reading a book leisurely, some people are making poems in poetry, children are laughing, and women are drunk and lying.
He looked to the right, Ding Hao hot, hot cooking oil, a writhing body was poured on the oil, was pulled out of the heart, people cursed each other, biting each other, eyes flashing like a beast .
He also saw the former abbot of the Wuxi Temple, the old monk who planned the blackout of the Lingshan Conference. He was surrounded by three people. Everyone held a small rusty knife in his hand and cut him separately. Faces, legs and brothers, one knife and one knife, the cut flesh quickly recovered, so the old monk couldn’t stop screaming, but only the unspeakable roar - his rumored tongue It has already been ripped off.
The more the ink burns, the more chilling.
He didn't even want to look at both sides, crying, laughing, angry, hi.
On the left, there is a woman who is softly saying: "Life and death, lonely life. Some lovers can't call a lover should..."
On the right side, a woman was bitten by a bad dog and screamed in a scream.
Half of his afterglow sees the light, and half sees the darkness. These light and darkness are absolutely absolute, like the chess pieces on the board, black and white, and clear and clear.
The ink burns only feels a headache.
He stood in the middle, and he simply stopped and squinted his eyes, not willing to see the scene of the nine days of integration with purgatory.
"The leaves are scared and the dreams are gone..."
"No! Don't do this to me any more! Please beg you! Save me... save me..."
But the sounds on both sides are endless, like an arrow, three points into the wood.
He heard Luo fiercely and gently said to his husband: "Chen Lang, the orange flowers in the courtyard are all open, I will lead you to see, okay?"
He heard Jiang Dongtang’s forefoot door, Qin’s sorrowful laughter: “Tong· rape? Hahahaha, yes, I am a traitor with Nangong Liu! I am a slut, a woman, I am One □ □ □ □ □ —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —— ——
Everything is gathered together.
Live, dead.
Real or fantasy?
Is it black or white, is it good or evil?
The sound around it is getting like a tide. The tides and waves are ups and downs. He seems to see two giant dragons breaking out of the water. The moon shines on their frosty scales.
Is that two dragons?
No, that is the two souls of oneself.
I started fighting again, and I was snarling in the spurt of the dragon.
The ground shakes the mountain.
The ink burns can't stand this crazy noise. He grabs his ears, but he still can't stop the two complicated voices. Finally he can't stand it. He has to raise his hand and drop the curse of the snoring.
He slammed his eyes open.
The surrounding scenes have disappeared.
The ink burns.
He is kneeling in the ground - what happened? How did the surrounding scene disappear?
Why is it everywhere black, an endless black...
Is it the illusion set by Xu Shuanglin?
The ink burns around and there is nothing. One is dark.
He took a few steps and tried to scream: "Master?"
"Xue Meng?"
"Someone is here?"
No one answered him, black, dead black.
Rao has seen countless storms, and this black is still awkward. He walked forward, his goose bumps on his arms, and he went forward...
Suddenly, he saw a faint white light shining far away in front of him, which seemed to be an exit.
He went to that place.
Suddenly there was a shadow around him, and the faces were not so clear, but he heard the slang of those people, and the tide generally slammed him down.
Those people are squatting, their voices are low, and they converge into a river.
"Congratulations to step on the emperor, life and heaven."
Stepping on the emperor?
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no no!He groaned, he trembled, and he shuddered. He went all out with all his strength, but it seemed that there were thousands of hands coming in from all directions to catch him.
"His Majesty--"
"Tai Xianjun Ze is eternal."
"The life is endless, and Fulu is not."
"Tai Xianjun..."
But those voices follow the shape, lingering, and the ink burns to see if Xu Shuanglin is smashing the evil spirits of the ghost world. At this moment, they all come out and take him away.
"Why are you going to leave?"
"Emperor, Emperor..."
The ink burned his feet, and his eyes flashed with blazing light. He wanted to go, but all the grievances were trapping him. He was forced to be trapped. He had no way to hide, so he was furious and he turned his head. Suddenly, the sword was squandered, and those illusions were broken into broken darkness.
He looks like a wolf like a leopard.
"Roll!!" he muttered. "Take all the seats! Roll!"
The voice fell and his face was awkward.
He heard someone muttering around and snickering: "This seat?"
"He said this seat... yes... he is talking about this seat..."
"Emperor, where are we wrong? You should also know who you are in your own heart, where did you come from, you can't escape."
The ink burned back with the sword and shook his head: "No, no... not like..."
The black smoke that had been smashed by him was re-gathered, and a vague shadow fell in front of him, and he stepped forward toward him.
The shadow said softly: "What is it?"
"I am not stepping on Xianjun!"
"How come you are not stepping on Xianjun?" The voice is soft and soft, like the thin smoke rising in the summer gauze. "Of course, you have a debt, you can only escape, you can't escape... ..."
"But it's over!" The ink burned staring at the dark shadow. "It's over! Stepping Xianjun has already died in front of the Tongtian Tower. He entered the tomb and has nothing to do with me! I am just... I am just..."
The shadow smiled softly, and the flower was as delicate: "What are you?"
Ink burning: "..."
If you say that you are still angry and fearful, when this sentence comes out, the emotion of burning is like ice, and the blood around you is frozen.
He was almost a bit stunned. He didn't react. He tried to talk, but he couldn't say a complete sentence for a long time. Later, he spoke, his voice groaned, and the hollowed out pipe only dug a broken word: "……dream?"
"You always think that you have been born again, but who can say it right? Do you think it is true? Is it true that you or me?" The smog is surrounded by him, and the more it gathers Clearly, "You said that you died under the Tongtian Tower, but you are now standing here lively... Are you really dead?"
The ink burned the black smoke.
He no longer trembled, he only felt cold, like an ice cave, and stepped into the abyss.
It’s so cold.
Did he really die?
The chill of Wushan Temple seems to be still immersed in the bone marrow. The fire of the top ten sects of the uprising is like a long snake smashing his neck from the foot of the mountain.
Xue Meng seems to have just stood in front of him, with nothing, tears, and all said: "Ink, put my master, return it to me."
Did he really die?
He remembered that he had taken it down, and he was very devastated. He came to the Tongtian Tower and used his last strength to climb into the tomb and lay in the coffin.
The jellyfish blossoms are very gentle, faintly fragrant, and the sky is full of clouds and shadows.
He closed his eyes...
"Then you open your eyes. You returned to the age of sixteen, and when you get back to everything, you can save it, right?"
The black image is able to see through his heart, laughing and whispering.
"You are back, the death and death are not destroyed, although the Confucianism Gate is turned into a scorched earth for the second time, but it is not what you do. Ye Yexiu did not die, Shi Mingjing did not. You saw your mind, you fell in love with Chu. Late Ning, you became the Mo Zongshi. He finally accepted you. You thought you were free. Now that you are the first of the righteous army, the Qingzheng Dao is the younger generation of young people in the mountains who want to take the leader of the bully, Xu Shuanglin."
A few deaths.
The blood vessels in the neck of the neck swelled in a sudden motion, along with a fierce heartbeat.
The shadow didn't look good, but it was looking at him, and he knew it was glaring at him.
The cold sword wears the heart and the fangs pierce the neck.
The smoldering can hear the despair spread in one's own body, the toxins generally spread, and like the deadly poison that he took under the age of 32, spread... immersed in the liver and gallbladder... immersed in the heart...
"You are not born again, you are dead, everyone is dead, Xue Meng is still alive but he hates you." The shadow said, "Now the dream is awake, blink of an eye, step on the fairy, you, Still the Lord of Darkness."
"No..." The smoldering heard someone talking, the voice was so weak and broken, as if it had been defeated countless times and then glued together, and then he was surprised to find that the person who said this voice was actually himself," no……"
He spurred the courage of every drop of blood in every inch of his bones. He stared at his eyes, and there was a madness in his eyes.
"You lie! Nothing! Nothing!!"
He gathered swords and sighed in anger.
The smoky smoke has dispersed.
But its voice did not scatter, it smiled in a low voice: "Lie? But kneel, you might as well look down, what is in your hand, what is it?"
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