Five Hundred Li Wasteland, apart from the sound of the wind, there is only the whine of the overwhelmed axle.
The Eight-Horse Golden Chariot that once ran rampant in Divine Capital is now as embarrassed as a bereaved dog.
The forged wheel hub of Mysterious Gold has been deformed by continuous high-speed friction for several days, and every rotation is accompanied by a heart-wrenching sound of metal twisting, as if it will completely disintegrate in the next moment. The white air emitted from the mouth and nose of the eight Dragon Blood Qilin Horse is mixed with blood foam, and the iron palms under the hooves are worn down to a thin layer. Every step on the gravel-strewn official road will leave dark red hoof prints.
The carriage was filled with the smell of blood, sweat and the lingering Desperate Aura.
Jie Se was sitting cross-legged at the rear of the carriage, holding a Sheepskin Wine Pouch that came from Old Yan. It contained the lowest quality Shao Daozi, which was like swallowing charcoal in the mouth and like fire in the stomach. He raised his neck, his Adam's apple rolled, and turbid wine overflowed from the corner of his mouth, soaking the tattered monk's robe that had long been unrecognizable from its original red color.
The strong liquor entered his throat, slightly suppressing Five Viscera Six Bowels's cold fear.
"Good wine."
Monk smacked his lips, and a sickly blush appeared on his coquettish face. He turned his head and glanced at Qian Dagui, who was huddled in the corner and was unconscious. The fat man, who knew nothing about money, was as pale as paper at the moment, and his brocade robe was soaked with cold sweat, clinging tightly to his fat body. In order to allow the carriage to run an extra five hundred miles, the fat man burned through all his money and luck, and even overdrafted half of his life.
Mortals dare to risk their lives.
"Old Yan." Jie Se shouted.
The veteran driving the car in front did not look back, his hands as skinny as eagle talons clutched the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white from excessive exertion. Old Yan felt the rising Aura behind him, which was a precursor to the burning source.
"Sit tight." Old Yan's voice was hoarse, torn to pieces by the strong wind, "We haven't arrived yet Black Mountain, don't rush to see King Yama."
"Meet King Yama? That's a matter for you mortals."
Jie Se stood up unsteadily, ignoring the bumps in the carriage. He took off the Prayer Beads string polished by Ninety-Nine Yin Human Bones from around his neck. It was the only relic left by his master before his death, and it was also regarded as evidence of heresy by Suspended Temple.
The fingertips moved the cold Bone Beads, making a subtle crisp sound.
"The poor monk cultivated Joyful Zen. When I went down, I went to Pure Land to find Flesh Bodhisattva. King Yama has nothing to do with me."
Jie Se smiled, with a hint of madness and determination that had seen through Mortal World. He raised his feet, stepped out of the carriage, and stood on top of the crumbling Chariot Shaft.
The strong wind was like a knife, cutting his face painfully.
At the rear skyline, the originally dim dusk was being replaced by a domineering golden Eroding. That was not the setting sun, but the pressure unleashed by a strong Dharma Aspect Realm unbridled. The Spiritual Qi between heaven and earth shivered under that pressure, the air became thick and heavy, and even breathing became a luxury.
That's Kongji from Great Thunderclap Temple.
That False Buddha who wears Human Skin and practices cannibalism.
"Da Gui Benefactor is a layman who uses money to buy his way. Fang Shizhu is a ruthless person who cuts off his liver to survive. Although the poor monk is a fair-weather Monk, he also understands a truth."
Jie Se turned around, turned his back to the carriage, and faced the rolling golden storm.
"That is, when someone treats you, you can't go to the table empty-handed. Today Western Desert's Old Bald Donkey wants to eat people, so the poor monk will give him a hard dish."
The words fell to the ground, Red Robe hunting.
There was no nonsense about life and death, Jie Se's toes were a little bit on Chariot Shaft. The whole person was like a red kite with its string broken, flying against the strong wind towards the sky that was stained with blood.
"Everyone, please go."
His voice floated in the wind, carrying a decisive joy.
"Da Gui..." Jie Se landed in the middle of the official road, looking at the remaining golden aftermath in front of him, feeling the terrifying aura that was approaching at an extremely fast speed, and the corners of his eyes twitched slightly.
The fat man's breath was extremely weak, but the time he bought with his life allowed the carriage to travel an extra five hundred miles.
Enough.
"Amitabha."
Jie Se Put his hands together, his originally playful and smiling face is now solemn and solemn.
But he did not recite the scriptures, but took out a box of rouge from his arms.
He picked it up casually at the Yihong Pavilion, but he didn't want to use it.
He picked up a dab of rouge with his fingers, applied it carefully on his lips, and then placed a charming plum blossom between his eyebrows.
At this moment, he didn't look like a monk, but more like a demon.
"Se Ji Shi Kong, emptiness is form. Old Bald Donkey, what you cultivate is Withered Wood Zen. I wonder if this Mortal World bliss can enter your Dharma Eye?"
From the horizon, golden light has arrived.
The figure of Kongji appeared at the end of his sight. He didn't even glance at the fat man on the side of the road, and his eyes first locked onto Red Robe Demon Monk blocking the road.
"Demonic Heretics." Kongji snorted coldly, the sound was like thunder, "I shall be punished for ruining my reputation, Buddhism."