Relying on the system to become a fantasy boss

Drink this bowl of soup, you are a brother.

Zhao Yang recalled those mortals who were like weeds in the cave back then.

They just drank their own bowls of soup, and did not reveal the news of their departure until their death.

After living in the Northern Territory for so long, Zhao Yang never thought of those lives buried in the collapsed cave.

It's not because there are too few intersections, but because subconsciously forgot.

This is not normal.

At this moment, holding the soup bowl in front of him, a violent evil spirit slowly emerged in his heart.

Lifting his head, he looked at the faces in front of him.

"It's amazing..."

Looking down at the rippling protein-colored soup in the bowl, Zhao Yang muttered in a low voice.

"Brother, what are you talking about? Hurry up and drink it while it's hot." The man who delivered the soup grinned.

In the distance, several men swallowed with difficulty.

"This is the way of magic? As long as there is a hole in your heart, you can take the opportunity to enter, right?" Zhao Yang didn't raise his head, but spoke in a low voice.

Compared with the sword cultivators I met before, the way of magic is much weirder.

Senior Sword Cultivator is to bring the disciples of the younger generation into his own memory fragments, let them look for opportunities, and if they can match, they will follow.

This magic cultivator directly entered his own memory space, looking for flaws in it.For ordinary people, the moment they saw the cave scene just now, their minds would immediately collapse.

"Hehe, it seems that he is really not a fellow..." The disheveled man laughed and said coldly.

In the entire cave, there is only the crackling sound of the campfire.

Zhao Yang held the bowl with a strange look in his eyes.

They cannot see their past.

In other words, they can only see part of their memories in the Northern Territory world, but they cannot see the system world and the memory of another world at all.

This made him breathe a sigh of relief, but a little disappointed.

"I once heard a story that there is a man who has the power to pity the misery of life, and when the life of the human race ends, he will give a mouthful of hot soup." Blowing lightly, Zhao Yang whispered.

When everyone in the cave heard his words, their faces showed contemplative expressions.

"Drinking this bowl of soup will dissipate the past and the past. There will be no regrets in this life and no complaints in the next life."

"There is such a soup in the world?" Someone asked in a low voice, with longing and longing on his face.

"Is there really such a great power?" Someone asked doubtfully, but the look on his face clearly showed that desire was greater than doubt.

"That powerful man's name is Meng Po, and that soup is called Meng Po soup." After Zhao Yang finished speaking, he put the bowl to his mouth: "Today's fish soup is my Zhao Yang's Meng Po soup, drink it It’s time to forget it.”

After finishing speaking, he drank the fish soup in the bowl with a few gulps, and then laughed.

In the cave, the others also laughed happily.

From then on, Zhao Yang fished and hunted with these people every day, supplementing his blood with blood food.

Half a year later, a demon cultivator came, took them away, and went to the territory of the Dark Night Demon Sect to practice magic skills.

Zhao Yang cultivated faster than everyone else, he reached the foundation-building realm within a year, led a group of brothers to kill monsters, and made enemies with some ascetics from time to time.

This kind of life is also happy, and it is a kind of happy enmity.

Three years later, Zhao Yang reached the peak of foundation building, and a brother who came out of the cave was beheaded by the demon cultivator to refine his soul.

Zhao Yang was already the leader of a small faction at this time, and without further ado, he led his men to chase and kill the golden core demon cultivator.

In the end, with all of his subordinates dead and seriously injured, Zhao Yang reversed his magic skills, broke through before the battle, formed a golden pill, and beheaded the opponent.

Becoming a Jindan Demon Cultivator and having a record of killing enemies for his brothers, Zhao Yang rose to fame, quickly gathered one party, and became a quite respected demon.

Until one day, the man who gave him a bowl of fish soup came and handed him a cup of bitter wine.

"The Wordless Demon said, you are in his way."

Looking at the glass of wine in front of him, Zhao Yang stretched out his hand to pick it up.

Just about to drink it in one gulp, but the man in front of him snatched it away and drank it dry.

Zhao Yang looked at the man and just grinned, then turned into a pile of dry bones in front of him.

Without further ado, Zhao Yang mobilized his army and spent ten years to kill that silent demon.

Turning around again, he is already the strongest among the younger generation of the Night Demon Sect.

Logically, he was dubbed the number one devil.

1000 years later, he took over the magic tome that his master gave him, and became the Night Sorcerer.

The mission of the Night Demon Sect is to wait for the arrival of the Demon Lord.

Zhao Yang was unwilling to settle down. After 10 years, when he became the peak existence in the world, he finally turned the last page of the magic book.

"Refining the demon body, receiving the demon soul, transforming the demon master?"

Looking at the scene of the demon lord coming on the last page, Zhao Yang was filled with demon energy, and began to slowly refine his demon body.

"Did the host spend 1 world's power to refine the demon body?"

"Did the host consume the power of 10 worlds to refine the true body of the Dao Demon?"

A cold voice pierced through Zhao Yang's soul consciousness like lightning.

In an instant, what kind of magic way, what kind of devil master, all disappeared like a dream, without any trace.

In his hand, there was only half a broken bowl.

"Om-"

The broken bowl resounded, and it turned into a thick sword with a demonic aura.

Without even thinking about it, Zhao Yang directly inserted the great sword into the sword case.

He is very familiar with this sword, it is the great sword he has used in the Demon Sect for hundreds of thousands of years - Tu Shen Zhan.

Of course, he knew that the one who used this sword was not himself, but the senior Mozong who was sealed in the tomb in front of him.

Looking at the big characters "Mozong Emperor Motian" on the tombstone in front of him, Zhao Yang bowed and saluted.

Different from Daxueshan Sword Cultivator, this senior Di Motian turned into a sword, and after leaving the inheritance, he handed over all his cultivation insights to Zhao Yang without reservation.

This made Zhao Yang really lost, and finally relied on the system to recover Qingming.

"Boy, is there really Mengpo soup in this world?"

In front of the stele, an afterimage slowly condensed, but floated slowly, as if it would dissipate at any moment.

This figure was dressed in a black robe, with a black jade hair crown on his head, and a jade belt with a kui ox and python pattern around his waist. His face was majestic, exactly what he looked like in Zhao Yang's illusion before.

Timothy.

The first demon envoy of the Night Demon Sect.

It's just that Di Motian really only has one remnant soul now, and all the power has been given to Zhao Yang.

Hearing Di Motian's words, Zhao Yang had a flash of inspiration in his hand, and a small white porcelain bowl appeared.

"Senior, try it."

Di Motian reached out to take it, looked at the faint soup in the bowl, and lowered his head to take a sip.

"how is the taste?"

"It's a little sweeter, you young people will probably like it." Di Motian shook his head and took another sip.

"Do you want to add some more?" Zhao Yang said, and a clay pot appeared in his hand.

"This is the medicinal diet that my junior sister specially prepared for me. She prepared a lot for me in case I would go hungry outside, and the taste is also specially prepared."

Seeing Di Motian hand over the bowl, Zhao Yang poured another half of the bowl for him.

"Looking at it this way, there is no such great power as Po Meng in the world?" Di Motian looked at the bowl in his hand, with a look of disappointment on his face, and slowly picked it up.

"If you want, senior, you can treat this bowl of soup as Mengpo soup. After drinking it, you will be in love and hatred for this life." Zhao Yang said softly.

Di Motian's hand holding the bowl paused slightly, and after a long time, he slowly put the bowl down.

"I don't want to forget." His body gradually dissipated.

Zhao Yang bowed and saluted.

"Can I have a bowl of Mengpo soup?"

After a long time, the sound of raging fire sounded in the sword box.