The voice of the person in the wooden house was very gentle, as if he had woken up from a nap, and had a somewhat lazy tone. It seemed that the person who came was not a beast that disturbed the sweet dream, but a bird singing in the morning.
Gong Mengbi's face turned slightly solemn. The man in the room had such arrogance and confidence, which meant that he had extraordinary abilities.
Footsteps sounded, and a middle-aged man dressed in rich clothes with a feather coat and wide sleeves came out.
If Gong Mengbi's appearance is the best match among foxes, and is favored by nature, showing the beauty of foxes, then the middle-aged man in front of him is destined by heaven and earth, and vividly expresses the gentle and connotative temperament of middle-aged people. .
Even if he didn't speak, he just stood and looked at the three of them with a gentle and vicissitudes of life, making it difficult for them to feel bad.
This is a man who is extremely charming and has a sense of story. You can't help but sit down and drink a bottle of wine with him and listen to him talk about the vicissitudes of the past.
This is not an advantage in appearance, but an advantage in temperament and story.
Taoist Luo said in a trembling voice: "Painting Saint!"
The man looked at Daozhang Luo, seemingly a little surprised, with a somewhat pleasant smile: "Do you know me?"
Luo Daochang said: "I have never seen your true face. The painting sage has painted portraits for others all his life, but he has never had a self-portrait. I only know his story from legends and his charm from ancient books. .You really look like the painting saint described in the book."
Gong Mengbi shook his head: "You are definitely not a painting saint. Although I have never met a painting saint, I only heard his stories and know what kind of romantic figure he is. I will never do anything like murdering people and stealing souls." Such a thing. Even though you have transformed into his skin, you are definitely not him."
There was some unhappiness on the man's face, and he said: "I am the painting saint. What do you know? I failed to ascend to immortality, and my soul was sheltered in the painting. Six hundred years have passed since I woke up. My skin has died, and only this It's ridiculous to have to rely on absorbing other people's souls to maintain a little soul. It's ridiculous to be a saint."
Gong Mengbi shook his head insistently: "You are no longer Xue Daoqing, let alone a painting saint, you are a devil."
The painting sage looked at Gong Mengbi and said: "Seeing me in such a mess, seeing the painting sage going astray, are you a fox demon very happy?"
Gong Mengbi said: "What should I be happy about?"
The painting saint opened his arms and said: "I, Xue Daoqing, the dignified painting saint, the reincarnation of an immortal, have been reduced to a soul-stirring monster. Isn't this what you want to see?"
"But even if I'm reduced to this, it's not your turn to laugh at me!"
The painting saint waved his arms, and groups of black shadows flew out of the wooden house, turning into black ghosts and gods and rushing towards them.
Gong Mengbi immediately smelled the fragrance falling on these black shadows, and he couldn't help but make him a little confused: "I only put fragrance on one of the black shadows, how come every one of them is dyed with fragrance now, and it is dyed so evenly?"
But he soon got the answer.
The Great Immortal from the North gathered his energy and formed a sword, and split the black ghost in front of him in half with one strike.
But in the blink of an eye, the black ghost split into two and continued to rush north towards the Great Immortal.
The Great Immortal from the North shouted: "Fire is coming!"
Her whole body was ignited with raging flames, like a giant snake, like a giant tail, curling towards the black ghosts and gods.
As soon as the light shone, the black ghost and spirit began to ripple, and when caught by the flames, it turned into black juice and flowed to the ground.
Gong Mengbi suddenly realized: "It's Mo!"
It is indeed ink, not only ink, but also spiritual ink.
Unless it is evaporated by flames, even if it turns into ink, it will quickly gather and turn into a larger monster.
Gong Mengbi had no time to be distracted. There was already a ghost in front of him that looked like a vicious dog and rushed towards him.
Gong Mengbi's eyes twitched, he turned into the wind and leaped up, and then a long, slender and transparent jade sword with only a blade condensed in his hand.
Gong Mengbi slashed with his sword, and as if a ray of moonlight passed through, the evil dog-like ghost turned into black smoke and evaporated. The flowing ink was wrapped in the icy cold air and condensed on the ground.
Seeing that the ink could not achieve success, the Painting Sage was not in a hurry.
He stretched out his hand and a picture scroll fell on his hand, "Don't you want to avenge them? Then come and see them for yourself."
He unfolded the scroll in his hand, revealing the beautiful pictures in it.
This is a half-finished picture of hundreds of beauties. The hundreds of beauties painted in it are all tender and beautiful ladies, but many of them have no faces drawn, only a vague human shape.
As for the beauties whose faces have been painted, their eyes are like autumn water, just like real people.
The Painting Saint held up the hundred beautiful pictures, and the beauties walked out of the pictures one by one.
Taoist Luo glanced at it, his eyes were about to burst, and he said: "Evil! Evil!"
Of those beauties, more than ten of them were deceased in Shanyin County. Director Luo has read the files and recognizes their faces and will not admit their mistakes.
"If you paint with a living soul, you will be punished by heaven!"
The painting saint sighed: "The so-called heavenly punishment is just a joke. I have done many good deeds in my life, but in the end I failed to become an immortal and just survived. It can be seen that the theory of good and evil is actually false."
Taoist Luo wanted to argue again, but he had no time to be distracted. The differentiated ink ghost fell into the hands of the beauty in the picture, and turned into an ink knife, an ink sword, an ink rope, and an ink hammer.
These beauties are painted with living souls, their movements are erratic, and they come and go erratically. Like a shadow, gathering and dispersing, he is the top assassin.
A beautiful woman appeared behind Taoist Luo at an unknown moment, and with a slight thrust of the ink dagger in her hand, she was about to stab her to death.
The golden light on Luo Daochang's robe flashed and he blocked the dagger.
Daochang Luo's expression changed, he waved his sleeves and hit the beauty.
But the beauty was powerless and just smiled softly before turning into smoke and disappearing, leaving Daozhang Luo in the air.
Gong Mengbi offered sacrifices to the small golden stove, and smoke poured out, like a white fox, enveloping him in it.
Several beauties came to assassinate them, and when they stabbed their swords on the smoke, they were held up, making it difficult to penetrate deep.
The Great Immortal from the North is also weak. She is the most profound in Taoism, but the problem is that she refuses to hurt those living souls, but is tied up.
The painting sage laughed, and took out another painting. The scroll unfolded, showing the huge Ming King burning with karma fire.
King Ming had a ferocious face, holding a seal in one hand and a vajra in the other. He jumped out of the painting and smashed the vajra at the Great Immortal Beilai.
The expression of the Great Immortal from the North changed, and he flew away, but was unexpectedly stopped by two beauties setting up an ink net.
She immediately made a decision and burned the net with flames, and got out of the net. The next moment, the vajra fell to the ground, and she heard the ground shaking, flying rocks rolling, and cracks in the mountain.
Gong Mengbi did not pay attention to the battlefield of Beilai Immortal, but looked at the painting saint. While he was distracted, he suddenly turned into smoke and dissipated on the spot. When he reappeared, he had already slashed at the painting saint's head with a knife.
The moonlight flashed, and the painting saint was shattered like an afterimage.
－－－－－－Digression－－－－－
I haven’t finished writing yet, maybe until one o’clock.
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