But Chu Xiaoning did not stop and did not look back.

He can't get back.

He gritted his teeth, but his tears still collapsed.

It’s really aggrieved.

But what can be done even if it is wronged?

excuse?

Angry?

It’s already this step, how can he still have a face to tell the ink to burn the truth. Do you want him to explain it when he burns and blames him for ridiculing him? Still want to make a "鸠 鹊 鹊 nest" after the "East Shi effect"?

he left.

That night, the bridge, the spring of Huangquan, the dialogue between the master and the teacher, I wonder if it is following the rolling rivers, the mountains and rivers, the rivers, and the intrusion into the Yincao.

And the gentle, like a young boy, if he had knowledge of the spring, and heard such a dialogue, I wonder if it would be sad for the embarrassment of the teacher.

Mocha stood alone on the beach for a while, he thought, this may be due to fate.

—— Chu Yuening suspected others, but he did not doubt him.

It was also a coincidence that the day was so late. When Chu’s day of the night was inspected in Houshan, he was called out for use because he met a little devil. Later, he did not take it back, so he hung it over his waist.

The golden day asked to shed light in the white robes of Chu, and this can set out his truth, killing the later vine whip of the emperor, who has been shining.

However, Chu Xiaoning did not take it down and did not examine him.

The ink burned away from the sky and asked, a man slowly left, went to the depths of the bamboo forest where the rustling, and went to the strongest place in the night, and finally was completely swallowed by the darkness.

Since then, he has been premeditated to secretly refine the pieces, two, four, ten.

more and more.

He planted them one by one into the disciples of the dead and the dead, and made them their own eyes, ears, and arrows.

After the initial joy, the smoldering began to become irritable and gloomy. He became more and more irritated, more and more violent, and more and more contented.

too slow.

He is not enough.

He was afraid that Chu would rather notice something moving, so he didn't dare to spend all his strength to make Jane Chess like the first time. He only does one at a time, leaving half of his energy, and he is no longer arrogant. Instead, he finally puts his fingers away and returns to the seat of Chu Yuning, following the practice of Chu.

He calculated that he thought that he would help him improve his cultivation as soon as possible, and lay the next step for him to step out the first step of the human bones. Why not?

On this day, he practiced too hard, exhausted, and accidentally fell out of the slender treetops and fell straight.

Only in a moment, Chu nightning white clothes passed, he hugged the ink, but for a moment he could not shoot to summon the enchantment, the two fell together under the tree. Chu night Ning was burned by the ink, and it was sore and painful. The ink burned and opened his eyes. He saw that the hand of Chu’s lateness was rubbed, a **** mouth and fleshy valgus.

The ink burned and stared at the mouth. The heart was actually cruel and excited. At that time, his heart was beginning to be distorted. He did not feel too much gratitude and embarrassment. He only thought that this blood was really good, but it was better.

But he knows that it is not the time, he can't reveal the sullen face under the hood at this moment, so he helped Chu nightning to wipe the wound and help Chu nightning.

No one of them talked, and everything was white, and the white gauze was wrapped around many roads.

At the end, the ink burned meaningfully: "Master, thank you."

This sudden and unexpected thankfulness made Chu latening feel very surprised. He raised his eyes and looked at the burning face. The sun shone and shone in the face of the ink. The brown light was very light.

At that time, the smoldering of the ink was actually a bit curious. What kind of opinion did Chu lateing thank for his own voice?

Finally, the prodigal son turned back?

Finally started to ease?

But Chu Xiaoning said nothing, just dropped the eyelashes and put down the cuffs.

The wind is up, the sun is just right.

In the past life, he never understood his master, just as his master also misread him.

Later, the burning power of the ink is getting stronger and stronger. He has a surprising talent. The pieces that can be made by half of the spiritual power are changed from one to two, and later become four.

But not enough.

What he wants is a million soldiers, who can take the shackles of death and death and put the power of Chu nighting under his feet.

The ink burnt count is not good, this person who is about to become the emperor of the immortal, holding the abacus, is beating the beads at the table.

When Xue Meng came to see him, he happened to bump into this scene and curiously went over and asked: "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Accounting."

"What account?"

The ink burned for a moment, his eyes were dark, and he smiled and said: "You guess."

"Can't guess." Xue Meng walked over and took the book in front of him and looked at it. He looked at him and said, "One... three hundred and sixty-five days... three hundred and sixty-five... four... three hundred Sixty-five days... What's the mess?” The ink burned and said: “I want to buy sugar.”

"sugar?"

"The best candy in a month, you have to pay a penny. If you buy a copper plate every day, you can buy 365 sugars in 365 days. If you can lay down four copper plates every day, That is..." He lowered his head, rubbed his fingers, couldn't figure it out, and shook his head again. He slammed an abacus. "It's a thousand..."

Xue Meng’s mental arithmetic is faster than him, and Lili said: “One thousand four hundred and sixty sugar.”

The ink burned and looked up for a moment, and suddenly said: "You can count really fast."

Xue Meng was rarely praised by him, stunned, and then he laughed and said: "That is not, after all, since childhood, Auntie called medicine."

The ink burned down and smiled. "It’s not clear whether it’s left or right. It’s better to do it, help me to calculate it?”

After the death of the teacher, the ink has not been so calm and long since, and Xue Meng looked at him against the sun, and there was some subtle pity in his heart.

So he nodded, opened the chair and sat down next to the ink.

"Come on, let's talk."

The ink burning temperature channel: "How many sugar can you get in a year?"

"Three thousand six hundred and fifty, this is not too expensive. It is too simple."

The ink burned and sighed and said, "Add some more, one day fifteen..." I thought about it and felt that the chess piece was over the limit. I asked, "Twelve in a day. How much?"

"Four thousand...four thousand three hundred and eighty."

"I want five thousand, have to wait a few more days?"

"I have to wait again..." Xue Meng scratched his head and thought it was a little hard, so he asked, "What do you want to do with this polysaccharide? You can't eat it."

The ink burned down the eyelids and covered the gloomy eyes of the eyes. He said: "The next year, the death and death will be set up for 30 years. I want to give everyone a sugar to eat, and always save it from today."

Xue Meng stunned: "You have such a mind..."

"Yeah." Ink smiled. "What's the surprise? You also have a share."

"I don't have to." Xue Meng waved his hand. "I don't want you to eat this sugar. Come, let me help you, and see how long it will take before you can buy more than 5,000 candy."

He said, he took the abacus and, under the backdrop of the flowers and trees at the window, seriously burned the ink. The ink burned and looked at it, and the bottom of the eyes was lustrous. After a long while, he chuckled and said, "Thank you."

Xue Meng snorted, and he was very focused, and he did not care too much about him.

In his eyes, there are only black beads that are smashed, two pieces, like black pieces, one by one, a little bit more.

At that time, Xue Meng probably couldn’t think of it. It’s not sugar at all, but a life force that overthrew the life of the dead.

He wouldn't know that it was probably because he was helping at the window, faintly touching the only remaining good thoughts in the heart.

Therefore, the five thousand sunspots, the ink burning in the end is to take into account the old feelings, and ultimately did not give him a glimpse.

"It takes so long?" Finally, looking at the number that Xue Meng wrote, the ink shook his head and shook his head. "It's been too long."

Xue Mengdao: "Do you want me to borrow money?"

The ink burned and smiled: "No need."

After Xue Meng left, he thought about it again and again, and turned some reels in seven seven eight eight eight, and gradually got a plan in his heart - and this plan became the prototype of the "community of the heart" that was later created by Teng Xianjun.

This evening, the ink burned ten pieces, and the pieces were incomplete. They didn't use all their strength, they couldn't control the living, and they couldn't even control the more powerful bodies.

He took the ten pieces and went down to the town of impermanence, taking a little song and coming to a place on the outskirts of the town:

Crane back to the slope.

People died by the crane and returned to nine days. This is a beautiful and simple illusion of a mortal. It is said that this hillside is a cemetery. The people who died in the town of Wuchang were dragged to the mountain to be buried. This is the hometown of the town. There was no delay in the burning of the ink. He walked between the rows of tombs, and his eyes swept over the words on the stone. Soon, he stopped at a brightly lit, with a fresh grave in front of the tombstone. Raise your hand, tighten the five fingers, smash the ground, and reveal a simple coffin in the sand.

Because of a certain experience when he was a child, Mo-burn was not afraid of dead bodies, and he had no fear of the dead bodies. He jumped up the raised mounds, called a strange knife, and smashed the nails, and then thinned the feet. The cover is opened.

The moon shined on the face of the body. The ink burned the head, and the pork was fined, looking at the body lying inside.

It is an old thing, newly buried, wrapped in shroud, dry face, depressed cheeks, because the tomb environment is not good, there is no money for anti-corrosion, so there is a strong smell of sputum, some flesh has begun to rotten I gave birth to a mole.

The ink burned frowning, endured stench, and put on metal gloves, grabbed the old man's neck and lifted him out of the coffin. The old man's head fell steadily, his eyes burned cold, and his hands flashed, and the precious sunspot had already been punched into his chest.

"It’s smashing." The ink burned like a relative touching the face of the dead. Suddenly, he took a slap in the back of his body and smiled. "What are you doing?" Standing straight, my baby is a grandson. ”

Although the incomplete blacks can't control the strong body, it is more than enough to control an old man with a thin leg and a hemp.

The body squeaked, and a pair of tightly closed scorpions suddenly opened, revealing gray eyes.

The ink burned said: "Report it."

"The name is not up to me."

"Where are you?"

"The land is not for me."

"What day is it?"

"I don't want to be old."

The ink burns and narrows the eyes, and counts the remaining nine fragments in his hand. Sure enough... If you only control this level of corpse, you don't need to spend so much spiritual power to make such a pure sunspot.

He grinned, and the pear vortex was deep, and he opened a very handsome smile. He slowly asked the last question:

“What are you asking for?”

The old man hoarsely said: "What you ask for, for the chess piece, the broken bones, do not hesitate."

The ink burned and laughed. He was very satisfied with the result. He used the remaining pieces to make another nine bodies. He picked all the fresh, just buried bodies. At the very least, there was a complete flesh hanging. Not being eaten away. These corpses, old and weak, were ruined, and the wind fell down. There was no power at all, but the ink burned them, but the eyes flashed with madness and excitement. He took out ten small boxes from the Qiankun sac and opened one of them. He saw two red-blooded worms curling up inside, and the male and female biting their tails.

"Well, cool is cool enough, bothering you to be suitable, and it should be used for me." The ink burned lazily, then fiddled with fingers and pulled the two bugs in the cross. The male was taken out and said to the old man who was made into a chess piece, "Man, excuse me, open your mouth."

The old man opened his mouth smoothly, revealing the rotten tongue inside. The ink burned the male into his mouth and said, "Come on."

No resistance, no hesitation.

The body slammed the soul-eating worm into the stomach.

The ink burned in the same way, and all the males in the box were fed into the mouths of these bodies, and then they said, "Go, lay back, rest."

On the second day, the ink burned another ten sunspots, which were also damaging and did not consume too much spiritual power. After the refining, he glued all the remaining female larvae to the chess, and then quietly entered some low-level disciples. Those disciples only felt that there was some itch behind them, but there was no special feeling. The ink was not worried. He was waiting -

When the female larvae lay their eggs, in the hearts of these disciples, the larvae that echo the males are left behind.

In this way, two unrelated pieces passed through the adult and larvae, becoming a one-to-one counterpart.

This is like flying a kite. The weak bodies are the kite line, one is holding the ink, and the other is holding the more powerful Jane. The smoldering only needs to give the order to the corpse that hides the adult worm, and wraps the other corpse corresponding to the young child, and will make exactly the same move.

It is a common heart.

This trick is a smoldering of himself. Before him, all the masters who could get in touch with the chess game were the great masters. Those people did not lack the spiritual power, and they did not feel so mad that they wanted to make thousands, tens or even dozens. There are thousands of treasure pieces, so they don't need to think about this kind of opportunistic approach.

At that time, I was fascinated by the smoldering of the sorcerer, and I did not realize that he had done a terrible thing that no one had ever done in tens of thousands of years.

Make a sorcerer that can destroy the earth and destroy the land, and everyone can get started.

Everyone can do it.

"brother!"

Suddenly there was a bang in the ear.

The ink burned and awake, and a **** light flashed in front of him.

The phoenix evil spirit buried in the heart of Huangshan Mountain has turned out more vines than before, and it is swiftly killed. The Phoenix is ​​the beast of good flying, the speed is extremely fast, the ink burns away, and the shoulders are slammed open. The mouth is suddenly **** and arrogant. Xue Meng was shocked: "How are you?!"

"Don't come over!" The ink gasped and gasped, his eyes cold, staring at the tentacles on the ground, ready to pounce and then carry out the second wave of **** vines, and slammed Xue Meng, "Quick, go to Master Talk to him, stop! Let everyone stop!"

The blood drips and sighs, he is holding the heart in his hand, and the piece.

The mind is spinning fast, and Wan Nian is in the heart.

This is a mistake of the concentric, even better than his past life. But how to improve, the principle is here, only the mother of this side can be maintained, and the other side of the body can exert its power.

The ink burns the hand and holds the chess, and the whole person is still trembling finely, not because of the pain in the shoulder, but because of the chill and fear that spread from the soles of the feet.

It is no doubt that someone is born again.

Then, the person who is born again, do you know that he is also a ghost of heavy life? If you know, then...

Suddenly cold in the back, the ink burned suddenly desperate.

In front of me, it seems that the pale face of Stepanjun is emerging. The nine-necked crown is covered with sullen eyes and sneer.

He is tall, and he is sitting on a dragon chair, he is cold and joking -

"Mo Zongshi, you flee, where can you escape?"

The ghosts and shadows come up, the tides are general, they are the people he killed in his previous life, the debts he had owed in his previous life.

He saw the **** teacher, and saw the bloodless Chu nightning, and saw the hanged woman dragging the three-footed white scorpion to see the man who had broken his belly and succumbed to the ground.

Come and ask for his life.

"You can't hide in the morning and evening."

"Someone already knows what kind of souls are in your shell. You can't live forever."

The ink burns and closes the eyes.

If the person behind the scenes really knows that he is also born again, if that person shakes his past, then... what should he do?

He didn't dare to think about it anymore.