Fire.
The fire that soared into the sky devoured the Kek Lok Temple, which had been entrenched in the black stone forest for hundreds of years. The beams collapsed in the flames, making a crackling sound, turning all the sin and filth into ashes.
White Bone War Chariot sets off again.
This time, the carriage was no longer empty. The space that was originally used to hold people was now filled with Heavenly Materials and Earthly Treasures, Thousand Year Blood Ginseng, West Desert Poison Dragon Gall, Fine Gold Ore that had been plundered from the Pure Land Temple warehouse... These rarely seen treasures were randomly piled together like radish and cabbage.
Qian Dagui was lying on the pile of treasures, holding a Happy Buddha Statue made by Pure Gold in his hand, sleeping so hard. It seemed that this fat man could only find a sense of security among the piles of money.
Li Mingyue was still unconscious, but after being fed a few Ginseng Essence plants by Fang Mo, his face became much rosier and his breathing became longer and stronger.
Fang Mo sat cross-legged on the roof of the car, playing with the ball of High-grade Soul Debris in his hand. He did not rush to absorb it all, but separated a strand and carefully fed the Prayer Beads on his wrist.
"Oh... it feels so good..."
Jie Se's mean voice came from Prayer Beads, with a laziness of satisfaction, "Fang Shizhu, although this Pure Land Temple's soul is a little dirty, it is really strong. The poor monk feels that Dharma Aspect is about to grow out."
"Stop talking nonsense." Fang Mo said coldly, "How many others are ahead?"
"Three hundred miles to the east is the branch of the White Bone Sect; and two hundred miles further to the north is the stronghold of the Blood Refining Hall." Jie Se immediately turned into a leader and shared his treasures, "These grandsons usually compete with the poor monks for business, and this time they just got it all!"
The next three days were a complete nightmare for these Heretical Sectss on the edge of Western Desert.
A White Bone War Chariot shuttles between Wasteland and Gobi like a ghost.
Wherever it went, Mountain Gate was shattered, warehouses were emptied, and the Evil Cultivator leaders who dominated the party were made the new prisoners of Prison Suppressor without even sending out letters for help.
Fang Mo is like a tireless reaper.
He doesn't need rest, he doesn't need mercy. He feeds fighting with fighting, and every kill makes him stronger. The damaged Prison Suppressor keeps roaring in his body, digesting a huge amount of Sins and souls.
In the Kidney Palace, the layer of black ice that sealed Nian Nu'er finally began to melt. An extremely weak but full of vitality and charm wave was slowly recovering.
"That's almost it."
At dusk on the third day, Fang Mo stood on a White Bone Sect sub-rudder Ruins that had been slaughtered, looking at the Soul Pearl in his hand that had condensed into substance and exuded a faint fluorescence.
"Any more and the car won't be able to fit in it."
Old Yan is directing Iron Bull to move the last few boxes of Spirit Stones to the car. The weight of White Bone War Chariot has reached the limit, and the dozens of bones and legs are pressed into the sand.
"Sir, our vote is worth at least three to five million taels." Old Yan wiped his sweat and smiled broadly on his old face, "This time Divine Capital, even if we are dismissed and investigated, we can still be rich."
"Rich man?" Fang Mo put away Soul Pearl and looked to the east.
There, the rolling mountains lie like a giant dragon lying on the earth. That is the national border of Great Qian, and it is also the last pass for them to go home - Yumen Pass.
"If you want to be a rich man, you must first have a life flower."
Fang Mo jumped out of Ruins and patted the carriage, "Let's go, someone is waiting for us."
White Bone War Chariot started with a rumble, ran over broken bones all over the ground, and drove towards the majestic pass.
The closer we get to the border, the more intense the chilling atmosphere becomes.
The caravans that were originally seen everywhere on Wasteland have long since disappeared. From time to time, there are huge birds of prey circling in the sky, which are Reconnaissance Falcon of the Great Qian military. The air is filled with a sense of depression before the coming storm.
When Yumen Pass was still thirty miles away, Fang Mo suddenly raised his hand.
"Stop."
White Bone War Chariot stopped amid a harsh friction sound.
Ahead is a long and narrow Canyon, named One Line Sky, which is the only way to the pass. The cliffs on both sides are thousands of feet tall, like knives and axes, and only one car can pass.
At this time, there was no one in Canyon. There was only the whining sound made by the wind passing through Canyon, which was like a ghost crying.
"What's wrong, boss?" Qian Dagui rubbed his sleepy eyes and poked his head out of the pile of treasures, "Why did you stop?"
Fang Mo said nothing. He turned on Netherworld Ghost Eye.
In his field of vision, the seemingly empty Canyon mouth in front was densely intertwined with countless Karma Threads. Those lines showed a strange dark red color, revealing strong blood and murderous intent.
And in the center where countless lines converged, a familiar figure was standing there alone.
The man had his back to them. He was not tall and was even a little bloated. He was wearing a washed-white jailer's uniform and was holding a long-extinguished Dead Air Lantern in his hand. He looked like an old guard who had been vigilant in Heavenly Prison all his life.
Fang Mo's pupils suddenly contracted.
That back figure was so familiar. It was so familiar that it was even dazzling.
"Old Wang?"
Old Yan behind him also saw the figure. The Pipe Bowl in his hand shook and fell on the car board.
"That's...Wang Tou'er?"
Old Yan's voice was trembling with disbelief, "Why is he here? This is the border! It's thousands of miles away from Divine Capital!"
The figure from behind seemed to hear the movement and slowly turned around.
It was a round, greasy, fat face that usually wore a flattering smile. But at the moment, there was no smile on this face.
There is only a kind of heart-stopping indifference and strangeness.
Wang Youan.
Heavenly Prison Cell Block C, Room 9's warden, Fang Mo's life-and-death friend of that cheap dad, the fat old man who protected him in every possible way and treated him like his nephew when he first traveled through time.
At this moment, he was just quietly blocking Fang Mo's only way home.
It's like an insurmountable mountain.