The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

He walked on the long central axis walkway in the front hall of the Tiangong, and every brick and stone under his feet was as bright as thin ice, reflecting his figure.

Benedict.Benedict.Benedict.

Step by step, the sound of empty footsteps echoed lonely in the hall.

But Mo Ran is not lonely, he is not alone, he is standing in the middle of the walkway in the front hall of the Confucianism Gate, where there is no end in sight, and there are densely packed people on both sides, men, women, old and young, with expressions Different faces.

He stood in the middle, and here seemed to be a small city. On his left, the corpses of Rufengmen, those who were sorry for Xu Shuanglin, all became lowly people, tortured, cut up, and executed by various criminal methods. And then resurrected, resurrected and executed.On the other side, there are singing and dancing, peace and tranquility, free and easy.

He even saw Luo Xianxian, which should not be the real soul, but the appearance made by other corpses with illusion, controlled by Heizi, just like those Jiao people in Jin Chengchi.

Luo Xianxian's hair was rolled up in a bun, and she was with her husband Chen Bohuan at the moment, the two of them looked at ease and leisurely.

He also saw Yuanwai Chen's youngest daughter sitting beside his brother and sister-in-law, talking to them with a smile.On the other hand, Luo Xianxian snuggled up to Chen Bohuan, and when she heard something interesting, she covered her mouth with her sleeve and smiled brightly with her eyebrows bent.

This kind of scene is beautiful and dreamy, but the back of Mo Ran feels cold after seeing it.

He paced in this long aisle, half of hell here, half of heaven, good and evil are clearly divided, with laughter on his left, and groans of pain on his right.

He walked forward, as if he was walking through water and fire, light and shadow. He looked to the left, and there were hundreds of butterflies flying and flowers in clusters. Reading a book leisurely, some people are reciting poems and composing Fu, children are laughing, and women are lying drunk and lying on their clouds.

He looked to the right, the cauldron was boiling hot, and the oil was being cooked over a hot fire. The writhing bodies were doused with boiling oil, and their tongues were pulled out of their hearts. People cursed and bit each other, with a beast-like gleam in their eyes. .

He also saw the former abbot of Wubei Temple, the old monk who planned the shady scene of the Lingshan Conference. He was surrounded by three people, each with a small rusty stew knife in his hand, cutting his body separately. The face, the legs, and the forehead were cut again and again, and the cut flesh quickly recovered, and the cycle started again and again. The old monk couldn't help screaming, but what he uttered was only a roar of unknown meaning——his rumor-mongering tongue It has already been ripped off abruptly.

The more the ink burns, the more shuddering it feels.

He didn't even want to look both ways, crying, laughing, angry, happy.

There is a woman on the left who is reciting softly: "Life and death, lonely life. A lover can't call a lover..."

On the right there is a woman who is being bitten by a vicious dog and screaming.

Half of his peripheral vision sees light, half sees darkness, these light and darkness are so absolute, like chess pieces on a chessboard, black and white confront each other, good and evil are clear.

Mo Ran only felt a splitting headache.

Standing in the middle, he simply stopped and closed his eyes, unwilling to watch the scenes of the fusion of Nine Heavens and Purgatory.

He stayed where he was, waiting for a large army that was not as fast as him to catch up.

"Falling leaves frighten the dream, walking leisurely and counting the fallen red..."

"No! Don't do this to me again! Please! Help me... save me..."

But the voices from both sides are continuous, like arrowheads, penetrating three points.

He heard Luo Xianxian softly say to her husband: "Chen Lang, the orange blossoms in the courtyard are all in bloom, I'll take you to have a look, okay?"

He heard Qin Shi, the former head of Jiangdongtang, laughing like crazy: "Abusive? Hahahaha, yes, I committed adultery with Nangong Liu! I am a slut, whore, I am A slut, poisonous woman - I killed my husband, I want to be the head - ha ha ha ha, you all come to see my true face, see that I am an ugly bitch, ha ha ha ha..."

Everything is gathered together.

The living, the dead.

Reality or fantasy?

Is it black or white, good or evil?

The surrounding sounds gradually became like the tide, and he seemed to see two giant dragons breaking through the water, and the moonlight shone on their cold and wet scales.

Are those two evil dragons?

No, those are his two souls.

The fight started again, roaring and breathing dragon's breath, fiercely biting and colliding with each other.

The earth is shaking and the mountains are shaking.

Mo Ran couldn't bear this kind of crazy noise. He covered his ears, but he still couldn't block the chaotic voices twice. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He wanted to raise his hand and drop the curse of silence.

He flung his eyes open.

The surrounding scene has disappeared.

The ink burns in horror.

He froze in place - what's wrong?Why did the surrounding scene disappear?

where is he?

Why is there a blackness everywhere, a boundless blackness...

Is it an illusion set by Xu Shuanglin?

Mo Ran looked around, there was nothing, everything was dark.

He took a few steps and tentatively called, "Master?"

"Xue Meng?"

"Is anyone here?"

No one answered him, black, deadly black.

Rao has seen countless storms, this darkness is still terrifying, he walked forward, goosebumps appeared on his arms, he walked forward...

Suddenly, he saw a faint white light glowing far ahead, which seemed to be the exit.

He went to that place.

Suddenly there were figures around him, and the faces were not so clear, but he heard the ravings of those people, and he knelt down towards him like a tide.

Those people were chanting, their voices were deep, rumbled into a river——

"Congratulations to Emperor Ta Xian, live as long as the sky."

Stepping on the Immortal Emperor?

no no!

He shivered, he trembled, he shuddered, and he ran forward with all his strength, but it seemed that thousands of hands came from all directions, trying to grab him.

"His Majesty--"

"Treading Immortal Jun Ze has been immortalized forever."

"Shouzuo is endless, and fortune is not central."

Mo Ran was driven a little crazy, he tried his best to break away from the invisible hands, he ran towards the ray of light: "No, it's not me... go away... go away!"

"Taking Xianjun..."

But those voices were like a shadow, lingering, and Mo Ran began to think that Xu Shuanglin had captured the ghosts and evil spirits of the ghost world. At this moment, they all came out to arrest him, the escaped ghost.

"Why is Your Majesty leaving?"

"Dijun, Dijun..."

Mo Ran staggered, his eyes flashed wildly, he wanted to leave, but all the grievances were trapping him, he was forced to be trapped, he had no way to hide, so he suddenly became angry, and he turned his head angrily , suddenly drew his sword and swung it, chopping those phantoms into broken darkness.

His face is like a wolf or a leopard, almost ferocious.

"Get out!!" he roared, "Get out of here! Get out!"

The voice fell, and his face was miserable.

He heard someone around him murmuring and snickering: "My seat?"

"He said this seat...yes...he is talking about this seat..."

"Dijun, where did we go wrong? You should know who you are and where you came from. You can't escape."

Mo Ran held his sword back and shook his head: "No, no...it's not like this..."

The black smoke that had been chopped up by him gathered together again, and a vague shadow fell gradually in front of him, approaching him step by step.

The shadow said softly, "Isn't it?"

"I'm not Ta Xianjun!"

"Why aren't you Stepping Xianjun?" The voice was misty and soft, like the thin smoke rising from the light veil in summer, "Of course you are, there is a wrong and a debt, only you, you can't escape... ..."

"But it's over!" Mo Ran stared at the black shadow, "It's over! Ta Xianjun has already died in front of Tongtian Tower, and he entered the grave has nothing to do with me! I just... I just..."

The shadow smiled lightly, delicate as a stamen: "What are you?"

Ink burning: "..."

"Are you just a returned soul?" it asked, "Just a body with a memory? Are you just an innocent life living under the shadow of Ta Xianjun? Or... are you just a dream?"

If it is still anger and fear just now, as soon as this sentence comes out, Mo Ran's emotions are like ice, and the blood around him is frozen.

He was almost at a loss and didn't react. He wanted to speak in a murmur, but he couldn't make a complete sentence for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice was rough, and he dug out the throat and only dug out a broken word: "……Dream?"

"You always feel that you have been reborn, but who can be sure? Is what you think must be real? Is it you or me who is real at this moment?" The fuzzy smoke surrounded him, gathering more and more Clearly, "You said you died under the Tongtian Tower, but you are clearly standing here alive... Are you really dead?"

Mo Ran stared at the black smoke.

He no longer trembled, he just felt cold, like falling into an ice cave, stepping into an abyss.

So cold.

Is he really dead?

The desolation of Wushan Palace seemed to be still soaked in the bone marrow, and the flames of the uprising of the ten sects were like a long snake hissing and winding all the way from the foot of the mountain, trying to bite off his neck.

Xue Meng seemed to be standing in front of him just now, with nothing, with tears in his eyes, and said ruthlessly: "Mo Ran, return my master to me."

Is he really dead?

He remembered that he had taken the poison, and the poison pierced his heart and lungs. He staggered to the Tongtian Tower, and with the last of his strength, he climbed into the dug grave and lay in the coffin.

Begonias bloom very gently, faintly fragrant, and the sky, clouds and shadows linger together.

He closes his eyes...

"And then you open your eyes. You're back to when you were 16 years old, when everything can be redeemed, right?"

That black image could see through his heart, whispering with a low smile.

"You are back, the peak of death and life has not been destroyed. Although the Confucianism School turned into scorched earth for the second time, it was not you who did it. Ye Wangxi did not die, and neither did Shi Mingjing. You have seen your own thoughts clearly. You fell in love with Chu. Wan Ning, you became Master Mo and he finally accepted you, you thought you were liberated, now you are the leader of the rebel army, the upright Daoist leader, the generation of young heroes who want to arrest the leader of the bully Xu Shuanglin on the mountain—"

A little dead silence.

The blood vessels in Mo Ran's neck are throbbing, along with the intense heartbeat.

The dark figure had no face, but it was staring at him, and he knew it was staring at him.

"You think beautiful."

The cold sword pierced the heart, and the fangs pierced the neck.

Mo Ran could hear despair spreading in his body, the toxin spread like the deadly poison he took at the age of 32, spreading...into the liver and gallbladder...into the heart...

"You are not reborn at all, you are dead, everyone is dead, Xue Meng is still alive but he hates you." The black shadow said, "Now you are awake, open your eyes, Stepping Xianjun, you, Still the Lord of Darkness."

"No..." Mo Ran heard someone talking, the voice was so powerless and broken, it seemed to be crushed countless times and glued together, and then he was surprised to find that the person who said this voice was actually himself, " no……"

He drove the courage in every inch of his bones and every drop of blood, he opened his eyes, and there was madness in his eyes——

"You lied! It's impossible! It's impossible!!"

He gathered his sword and slashed, panting furiously.

The black smoke dissipated again.

But its voice didn't disperse, it was smiling lowly: "Lying? But Your Majesty, why don't you lower your head and see what is it in your hand?"

The author has something to say: I will be busy these days, and I have a meeting, so I apologize for not replying and editing. Anyway, the manuscript has been stored for seven days, which should be enough until I finish work and rest. ~The manuscripts are released on a regular basis every day. If it is not posted by ten o’clock, it is Jinjiang’s draw. Just do it a few more times.