After escaping for three days and three nights, Meng Zhengxian was considered to have witnessed Song Qianji's real skills.

He did not work hard, and he was all relying on Song Qian's aircraft to break through the encirclement and interception again and again, throw away the pursuers, and hide in Tibet.

During countless deaths, he asked Song Qian to give up on him, but the man still blocked him and swung his sword with all his might.

Song Qianji adjusted his breathing and meditated under the tree, holding a sword to watch the night, while Meng Zhengxian sat on the tree, leaning against the rough trunk, and fell asleep for the first time.

It started to rain in the mountains in the second half of the night, and Song Qianji woke up and found an abandoned thatched house in the hunter.

"What don't help protecting the spirit, but keeping away from the rain like a mortal?" Meng Zhengxian was puzzled.

"Escape from the wild, the recovery speed of spiritual ‌ is slow, and the talismans and elixirs are limited. If you can, you can save as much as you can."

Song Qianji did not use the talisman fire, and took out the fire fold from the storage bag.

"Ha, this is also considered a life of a monk?" The evil master looked disgusted.

"Since I pushed the cliff down, I have lived this kind of life over the years." Song Qianji said nothing.

Meng Zhengxian was speechless.

On a rainy night, a lamp is like beans.

The two of them burned water and sat in front of the window and listened to the rain.

The autumn mountains are heavy and the autumn rain is drizzling.

Meng Zhengxian jumped out of the Golden Palace, rushing all day long, temporarily forgetting the grievances and grievances of the world of cultivation, right and wrong.

Where to come from? From the Golden Palace.

Where to go? Go to Qianqu.

They flew across the West Sea, crossed the wasteland, crossed mountains and ridges, and only knew they were going to the thousand channels.

It seems that Qianqu is no longer a real place to die, but a dream that will never be reached.

"When it rains, what will Qianqu do?" Meng Zhengxian asked.

"What else can I do? Let's have a water fight with Xiao Ji and the others." Song Qianji was laying a straw mat. He thought when he heard this, "The barn seeds are prone to moisture on rainy days, and they will also help dry them."

"Impossible." Meng Zhengxian shook.

But he didn't know what, but he didn't want the other party to sober up.

‌Song Qianji’s dream in the world, there is no evil Buddha and Meng to compete for the first place, only Qianqu Meng Heze.

He called on friends to hunt and roam, and was so happy.

The little disciple loved him, and the local people respected him, and both of his parents were. His father liked to play chess at the street corner, went fishing in Qianqu River on sunny days, and his mother liked to visit Qianqufang and would cut clothes for him.

What a dream.

Song Qianji: "I remember correctly, I can practice swordsmanship in rain, observe the rain and hone the sword intent..."

His voice gradually lowered, and he still held his spirits strongly. The warning formation was arranged in the thatched cottage.

Meng Zhengxian sneered and turned the Buddhist beads on his wrist: "Learn from the joyful Zen practice, never practice swords."

He suddenly took action, hit Song Qianji's back and put a talisman on it.

Song Qianji has been with him these days and is unprepared for him and falls asleep immediately.

Meng Zhengxian helped the man onto the straw mat and fed him a elixir: "Go to sleep."

He took out another fire cloud bead to drive away the cold and keep warm, and stuffed it into the palm of Song Qianji's palm.

After everything was settled, he walked under the eaves and faced a curtain of gurgling autumn rain alone.

He listened quietly to the sound of rain for a moment, and when the person inside the house was asleep, he spoke, "Come out."

There was no one just now. The dark night rainy night suddenly flashed more than ten figures of Taoist figures, knelt on the ground and clasped their fists: "Master!"

Meng Zhengxian frowned: "Speak softly."

The person who came to shivered, ‌ was more careful:

"The reconstruction of the Golden Palace, please review it."

"For all matters in the West Sea, please decide."

The jade slip was handed to Meng Zhengxian, and he stood under the eaves to give instructions, and finally called everyone again:

"Slowly, go find something for me."

...

When Song Qianji woke up, the rain had stopped. The clear sunlight passed through the dense forest and shone into the old window frames, and the light spots were sprinkled all over him.

The birds sing outside the house, and the sound was light.

There was a bowl of noodles on the table, and there was a white hot mist.

"Wake up and eat noodles." Meng Zhengxian sat at the table, turned his back to him, and whispered:

"When I was a child, I was playful and active, and I always fought with neighbors and children. If I win, my father would beat me up and scold me. I shouldn't cause trouble. If I lose, my mother would cook a bowl of noodles for her. She said that her stomach would be full and her body would not hurt."

Song Qianji rubbed his eyes and slowly stood up. He found himself covered with a soft white velvet blanket, and his clothes were replaced with brand new high-level robes. He didn't know where he was: "It really doesn't hurt. Strange."

He is full of energy, his old wounds are healed, and he is comfortable.

Meng Zhengxian still talked to himself, and his voice was low:

"I don't want to die from the cliff and die in the disaster. I don't want to live in Huaweizong anymore. I want to have a home, but Tiannanzhou is too far from Tianxizhou and is still separated by the vast ocean. The world is dangerous, and the cultivation is weak. It will be two years later when I get home."

"The day I got home was August 15th, the night of reunion. I saw the whole family and died. I remember that the night sky was red, orange flames, bright red blood, purple-red moon..."

"A monk saved me and asked me if I wanted to take revenge. I also knew that I must take revenge as soon as possible, otherwise I would wait for my enemies to be killed by others, and I would still be a low-level cultivator. The progress of the righteous martial arts is too slow and I have no place to learn, so I just learned the evil martial arts from that monk. The evil martial arts are good, killing one person in ten steps is just right. Three years later, I will kill those evil martial arts to avenge the whole family."

"Everything has a price. The stronger the practice of practicing, the more serious the backlash of the full moon every year. In recent years, chanting can no longer suppress the killing nature. If you stop or not practice, the enemy will come to kill. If you continue practicing, you will sooner or later lose your mind and become a monster."

"The Lord of the Evil Way is a little tired of it. Song Qianji, where did it come out from..."

Song Qianji put on his clothes and got out of bed, sat opposite Meng Zhengxian: "Xiao Meng, are you chanting scriptures again? Just shouted the name?"

Although the evil Buddha is a fake monk, he pinchs Buddhist beads every night and sits in meditation and recites scriptures.

Meng Zhengxian turned around and looked out the window: "What can a drunkard say with him? Eat noodles!"

Green green onion, thick chicken soup, dripping sesame oil.

Song Qianji drank two sips of soup and praised: "The skills have not declined."

Meng Zhengxian sighed, not sure whether it was Song Qianji or himself:

"I regret it. If I had known this, I wouldn't have let the wine drink from Hongchen. After eating this bowl of noodles, I'll leave."

Ordinary monks should drink red dust wine and indulge themselves for three days, but Song Qianji seemed to have an extremely poor alcohol tolerance.

"Aren't we going together?" Song Qianji slowly finished his noodles and said strangely, "Are you tired of walking? Want to take a break?"

Meng Zhengxian's back remained motionless, as if he suddenly made up some kind of determination and whispered the final decision.

Song Qianji said: "Climb these two mountains and wait until we reach Qianqu. Qianqu has good feng shui, green fields in spring, and flowers bloom. In summer, green trees are shaded, and birds are singing. Take a hunting team to hunt for poisonous miasma forests. In autumn, harvest will help dry millet. It snows heavily in winter, and Xiao Ji and others smash snowballs..."

"Enough. There is no thousand channels in this world!" Meng Zhengxian suddenly turned red with his eyes, "It's not Meng Heze, nor is it senior brother!"

Song Qianji couldn't help but be stunned.

I saw the evil Buddha's hair as white as snow, his eyes with tears.

"Go away!" Meng Zhengxian shouted, "I am a dignified master of evil paths, no such a casual cultivator!"

"Let's go." Song Qianji picked up the sword and showed up without any nostalgia, "What are you yelling at? It's quite rebellious."

The sun is bright and the wood leaves taste moist and fresh.

After a night of rain, unique white jade spirit mushrooms popped up under the trees. This mushroom tastes delicious and can also replenish spirits.

Song Qianji has been tiring for the past few days, and is lazy to take care of Meng Heze again, so he decided to let the other party cry silently for a while and calm down.

He picked more than 30 small spiritual mushrooms, returned home with a load of loads in his outer robe, and suddenly felt a fluctuation from the direction of the thatched cottage.

"Who moves the formation? The Xi is not Meng Heze. There are outsiders coming, and there are more than one person."

Song Qianji's expression changed slightly, and he ran wildly with his feet.

...
Chapter completed!