Ten Thousand Postures of Whitewashing Master

Master Xuyun passed away.

Yu Fuchen clutched the rosary beads given to him by the old monk before his death, and a thin layer of sweat formed on his palm.

Buddhism is pure, and life and death have long been underestimated. Although parting is a separation between yin and yang, it also proves that the deceased will ascend to bliss forever and transcend the suffering of samsara.

For Yu Fuchen, the old monk who had been with him for more than ten years and finally knew where he came from and where he was going was no longer there. He seemed to have cut off all ties with this world and was alone and helpless.

In front of the Daxiong Palace, the disciple who had been taught by Master Xuyun sobbed, tears slipped down, wet his clothes, and moistened the dust.

He didn't understand why the old monk's last wish on his deathbed was to wish him to worship under the sect of a demon. No matter how wild he uttered in the past, it was just because of his youth and arrogance.

To this day, he has long forgotten his original wish. He just wants to guard an ancient temple and pray for his deceased to be safe in the next life.

In the end, the old monk didn't want him to be safe.

"He is ridiculous, how can you fool around with him..."

Looking at the eighteen sons of Bodhi who had been polished black and glossy, Yu Fuchen murmured.

Nothing came up behind him and patted him on the shoulder.

Different from Master Xuyun, Wuwu often uses illusions to disguise his appearance. Since Yu Fuchen saw him ten years ago, he has been wearing plain white monk robes and spotless arhat shoes, and has always stood upright. Years, with clear eyes.

Even though he has been in the Buddhist sect for ten years, he has never seen the real appearance of this person.

Even sometimes, he didn't think that this annoying monk was of the same generation as Master Xuyun, let alone that he would succeed the old monk as the master.

"Benefactor Yu has not yet started, so comforting him with layman's words is a way of mourning. My senior brother has profound Buddhist teachings and has survived many hardships in the mortal world. The only regret is that he failed to rectify the name of that person. However, his lifespan is over, and he is destined to be Help him so far, and the rest can only depend on you."

After finishing speaking, he sighed and said the Buddha's name again.

Yu Fuchen was surrounded by a vast expanse of white steam, rubbed his eyelids, and turned to face nothingness: "Master, I want to ask about Feng Changhuan, how much do you know?"

Xu Wu held the palms together, and did not answer directly, but made a detour: "What does benefactor Yu want to know?"

"All."

"He is the same as you. He has never been ordained to become a teacher, but he spent his youth in the Buddhist sect. He begged for a long time, but his senior brothers refused him because of his lack of morality. In the end, he went down the mountain to practice at the age of 15. Since then Part ways with the Buddhist sect."

"In the fourth year of Tianyuan, there were demons in Kyushu. At that time, only the three major sects did not participate, and the Buddhist sect was also among them, right?"

"Senior brother can't bear to see him reap the consequences, so he won't bear the pain to come in person."

"So, what about the other two sects?"

This time, nothingness did not answer, and it was Ming Sinian who answered on his behalf:

"It was Xuanji Pagoda and Taoxi Stream, so after that, Fozong formed an alliance with Taoyuan, and jointly bear the infamy of 'not getting over the misery of the world' for ten years."

Hearing this way, it seems that he can also understand that when he was at the mountain gate before, the high-level Buddhist cultivator guarding the gate did not delve into the purpose of his trip and put people into Wuxiang, presumably because of this relationship.

As for the Xuanji Pagoda, it is the most mysterious and treacherous and the most powerful sect in the Twelve States.

As we all know, the Xuanji Pagoda does not accept disciples, and there is only one person in the whole sect, the Lord who can see the dragon and see the head but not the end. He controls the overall situation of the Three Realms and naturally becomes the head of the Twelve States.

The masters of Xuanji in the past are not people who cultivate the truth. They are immortals who have attained the Tao. Teach Shenwu to be a longbow with a dragon, and where the arrow points, there will be smoke.

They are not only in charge of cultivating the world, but also intervene in the change of dynasties in the mortal world, and mortals call them "puppet divisions".

As the name suggests, people are regarded as puppets on strings, and they are played with between the palms of their hands. They have the ability to seduce people's hearts. When they are born, they will stir up a mess in the world, and only one person can set off a huge storm.Even if the power is all over the world, it is difficult to undo the matter of life and death. This is an eternal truth.

In the eyes of mortals, the puppet master does all kinds of evil things, but to the cultivation world, he is just a pair of eyes sent by Jiuzhongtian to monitor the world, with eyes that are both righteous and evil, and it is reasonable that he did not participate in the chaos.

Yu Fuchen frowned, and Ming Sinian went to him with folded arms: "I've said from the beginning that Taoyuan has no ill intentions towards you."

The matter has come to this point, his purpose is no longer important, Yu Fuchen bowed to nothingness, and led Feng Changhuan to the back mountain.

He knew that this person was not as ignorant of the world as he had shown, and before he could see through people's hearts, pretending to be crazy was the best protection for himself. This was human nature and understandable.

Yu Fuchen would not accuse him of anything because of this, but he felt more or less dissatisfied when he saw that person stubbornly refusing to enter in front of the Daxiong Palace.

Especially when he learned that Master Xuyun also had the kindness of nurturing Feng Changhuan.

After walking silently for a long time, he didn't let go of the man's hand until the sound of the wooden fish in the hall gradually faded away, and leaned over to meet the timid blood eyes.

"You remember his, don't you?"

Feng Changhuan pursed her lips and remained silent.

"You know he's running out of time, why don't you go to see him and fulfill his wish?"

Perhaps she was too excited to impose her emotions on others.

"I don't believe that you hurt people, kill people, and slaughter common people, but you are so cold-blooded that you are speechless! If I can, I don't want to worship you as my teacher in my life!!"

It was clearly impossible to smell it, but when the man raised his eyes, he once again showed a look that seemed to be crying but not crying.

It wasn't until this time that Yu Fuchen realized that it was a kind of compassion, the same as the golden body of Buddha in the hall full of compassion, an emotion that would never surface on the face of a wicked person.

Feng Changhuan didn't defend himself, but just faced him silently.

"I... I spoke too seriously. You probably don't remember the past. I was too impulsive."

Feng Changhuan turned around and looked at the layered pine forest on the back mountain, and swallowed the words choked in his throat together with the blood stasis.

He doesn't bother to be understood by others, and he is not afraid of being misunderstood, but... that person, why is it you?

Yu Fuchen reflected on whether his apology was not enough, and was about to add a few words, when he saw a pair of white hands in front of him, holding a piccolo.

Ming Sinian smiled happily at Feng Chang: "Patriarch Yikui, the head of Taoyuan, asked me to convey something to you. She said that all old friends will not abandon you, and there will always be people in the world who will remember your merits and virtues in their hearts."

Knowing that he can't hear, can't speak, whether it's Yu Fuchen or Ming Sinian, they all treat him as an ordinary person who should talk and smile.

From time to time, he even made teasing remarks, which was considered to be taking advantage of the beauty.

Seeing Feng Changhuan was a little dazed, Ming Sinian deliberately handed the piccolo into his hands, and then returned to Yu Fuchen and stood with folded arms, like a pair of parents looking at their silly son lovingly.

Yu Fuchen hadn't recovered from the blow of Master Xuyun's passing away, and asked dumbly, "What is that?"

"An old thing he used before. Don't ask me for details. When he was playing with this thing, you were still wearing crotch pants and playing in the mud on the street. Naturally, I didn't hear anything outside the window, and I only read sage books."

Bewildered by him, it took a long time for someone to realize: "What a mess, why should I be playing with mud while you are studying?"

"The handwriting is not as good-looking as my handwriting. How dare you say that you have read a book?"

"So what, I'm crazy, and Mr. Bogao will give me a few stamps if anyone knows me."

The two were arguing happily, the deaf squatted on one side, forgot the unhappiness just now, fiddled with the piccolo tied with bright red tassels, and slowly moved it to his lips, his movements stagnated, recalling the familiar tune.

Yu Fuchen thought to himself: What's so good about a deaf man playing the flute? He can't hear it by himself. It can't be compared with Jiuyou Huahai's life-threatening sound?

Contrary to him, Ming Sinian looked expectant, with a little awe in his eyes, looking at Feng Changhuan, who was struggling to remember the fingering, closed his eyes and breathed in, looking forward to the gentle song.

The dragon sings and the phoenix sings, and the sound reaches the sky.

Yu Fuchen thought that Feng Changhuan might be the experience given to him by the heavens.

For example, at this moment, he is puffing out his cheeks and playing a piece of music that will make people blush, the heartbeat will speed up, and the breathing will be stagnant in the chest, on the verge of suffocation.

Even Ming Sinian, who had been looking forward to this before, felt a sudden pain in his chest, stepped back a few steps, staggered and bumped against the railing, blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Quick... don't let him blow it."

Whoa!It's really a song of cutting off children and grandchildren!

Feng Changhuan was blowing vigorously by himself, completely ignoring that other people were being tormented by the magic sound, and even the extremely arrogant Taoyuan disciple was punished, leaning aside half dead.

There was nothing he could do, Yu Fuchen didn't want to treat his ears badly, so he had no choice but to put on a bad face and coldly snatched the piccolo from Feng Changhuan's hands.

Unexpectedly, instead of scolding Ming Si Nian, he showed great kindness and came forward to check on his condition regardless of past suspicions. He raised his hand to wipe away his blood, but he was hit on the back of his hand and pushed aside halfway.

"Do not touch me!"

"You still have such a hot temper, didn't you ask for that just now?"

Fortunately, he realized in time how ambiguous his posture was, this person would be a ghost if he didn't blow his hair!

But it was really strange, Yu Fuchen's ears just felt the discordant noise that Feng Changhuan blew, and he didn't feel too much discomfort, but Ming Sinian suffered internal injuries from the shock, it shouldn't be...

"Hey, are you..."

Already injured?