This seat has been reborn as a rebel of Xianzun

The boy who was running wildly in the grove suddenly staggered and fell forward. The sand and stones splashed and scratched his skin. The blood stains covered the originally white and translucent skin. His face was covered in blood when he fell. He looked up. Suddenly appeared in front of the eyes, like a person who was exiled.

The figure of that person was as cold as jade and slender as bamboo, the moonlight spread behind him, casting a dim but clear light and shadow.

The boy pursed his lips, and he submissively retracted his hands into his arms, which was a gesture of self-protection.

He looked up at the figure in the air, the man bent down gently, his fingertips brushed his bloody cheek, stained with a dazzling blush: "Where are you going?"

The little boy was taken aback for a moment, then shrank back in fear, he got up and wanted to run.

"Am I scary?" The immortal laughed softly, got up and brushed off the soil stained on his white robe, "If you have nowhere to go, you might as well go to the fairy world and learn fairy arts from me."

This is a fairy mountain, a paradise, it is indeed a fairyland, but it is all casual practitioners practicing.

The little boy just followed, and he couldn't explain clearly, maybe it was because the person in front of him seemed harmless, and he felt very...comfortable.

Only later did he realize that this was called extremely powerful mental power.

Gentle, kind, enough to make all those who are less spiritual than him feel like a spring breeze and trustworthy.

Several years of humiliation have made him weak. He is afraid of facing criticism from others, but he thinks that is what suits him, and he doesn't even deserve more good things.

Thinking that everything would be fine, the little boy looked at the harmonious fairy mountain and heaved a sigh of relief.But he didn't expect that the land of casual cultivators was still bullying the weak.

He thought, it would be nice to have a place to live.

But he can't learn the fairy art that others can learn easily.

Others still look down on him.

They stole his sword, hid it, they threw his clothes, spit in his meals, they didn't talk to him, he had no friends, he had a lot to say, but he swallowed it all , because no one asked, and he had nothing to say.

In the eyes of others, he is a freak who doesn't speak, has a withdrawn personality, and can't learn anything.

What's more, he has white hair and his appearance is not ordinary.

Human nature should be like this.

The little boy didn't resist, he just endured all this silently.

Because he knew that the reason for all this was that he was too weak.

That year in the martial arts competition, he was dismissed early, and the sky was clear, but people looked at him with smiles on their faces.

Yes, he doesn't deserve people's approval, the only way is to become stronger.

The crowd was crowded, and the little boy in white was sitting under the tree, looking far away. No one knew where he was looking, but he secretly made an oath in his heart.

He is going to get stronger.

He wants to stand before the crowd and sing.

He wants everyone to see him and surrender to him.

After that, the little boy practiced sword day and night, and he still didn't respond to other people's teasing. He believed that hard work would be rewarded.

He has paid ten times the painstaking efforts, isn't it enough? !

He practiced swords, he practiced fairy art, he was alone, he found a secluded corner, practiced like crazy, he was dressed in white, in the foggy and dewy grove, taking advantage of other people's playfulness Gap, practice, practice.

But he still made little progress.

The ridicule and provocation remained the same, he was obsequious, nodded and bowed, and felt inferior to his bones.

Until that day, another person appeared in the grove.

The man in white bent down, stuffed a small and cute bell in his palm, accepted him as a disciple, and taught him how to practice fairy arts.

The little boy raised his head and met the man's face. He opened his lips, his voice was a little dry because he hadn't spoken for a long time.

"Master."

Feng Wujing's expression was gloomy, he watched this scene from a distance, and all the pictures from deep in his memory emerged.

But many things do not result from hard work. The little boy has made progress and acquired more and more fairy arts, but he still cannot keep up with the talented people around him.

Sunrise and sunset, clouds roll and clouds relax, the little boy grows more and more handsome. His pale complexion and hair color, natural red eyes, and melancholy temperament have indeed won him the love of many female nuns.

But he didn't think about all this at all. He just wanted to become stronger. He thought that all he could do now was obtained by his own practice day after day.

Until that day, he met a person.

The man said, his name is Chi Cang.

He can teach him spells to become stronger.

The little boy agreed without thinking, he said, I am willing.

But Chi Cang was not as kind to him as his master at all, he forcefully poured mana into his body, the painful muscles and bones were about to break, all limbs clamored to let go.

However, as long as it can become stronger, it's fine.

At the end, Chi Cang smiled and said, "You are born with a demonic physique. Practicing immortality is against the sky. It's only natural that you can't do it well. They laugh at you, and you should kill them."

The little boy frowned, subconsciously denied: "I can't."

Chi Cang said: "You can do it, come to me for 49 days, and I will teach you superior magic. At that time, you will be above all people, and you will be the Supreme Demon Realm."

I have to say that this made the little boy very excited.

He has had enough of being bullied by this group of people, he wants to become stronger, he wants to be looked up to by everyone!

Every day during the day, the little boy followed his master to practice fairy arts. The white-clothed fairy did not dislike him for his stupidity, but just taught him patiently, and then told him to be kind to others. It was not so much a practice, but a happy life.

And at night, he walked out of the fairy mountain alone to find Chi Cang.

Is he still on track?The little boy doubted himself a little.

The way of magic... The way of magic has always been opposed to the way of immortality.

But it makes him stronger.The little boy sighed.The only person he felt sorry for was his master.

Seventy-seven and 49 days passed quickly.

Chi Cang smiled and disappeared before his eyes.

Immediately afterwards, a man with red eyes and white hair scattered behind his waist by magic power appeared at the top of the mountain dome.

Still handsome, but he changed his clothes.

He changed from his original white clothes to a bright red one.

At some point, he was no longer the figure of a little boy, he had already turned into an extremely handsome young man.

The man laughed, and he was no longer the taciturn person he used to be. He stood in front of everyone dancing and dancing, his tall figure attracted everyone's attention.

He half-closed his eyes, raised his legs and leaned against a spirit stone, and looked down at the white-clothed immortals below him like a joke.

The sun was very hot, Feng Wujing felt that his skin was so hot that it was about to tear.This is what it's like to be a demon cultivator, he thought, he should have been an excellent demon cultivator, and he didn't have to be bullied from childhood to adulthood.

The man's deep and hoarse voice echoed in the mountains, and that voice was as hot as a blood-stained phoenix.

He said: "You all sit here, I won't hurt you, you listen to me."

"I want to say too much, but no one cares, you never ask me. Yeah, I'm weak, I know, it makes sense. Now, I'm strong, and I command you to sit here and listen I said."

The immortal cultivators were silent, they looked at each other in surprise, they just felt that the sun was so hot today, but after so many years, they had never heard Feng Wujing say a few words.

How many of them did not know what to do, the few people over there stood up, poohed at Feng Wujing from afar, laughed and looked down upon them, as if they were about to turn around and leave.

But it was a strong thrust that pushed them forward, and when they opened their eyes again, the man in red had already strangled their throats!

With a "click", the head was separated.

The man smiled lowly, with a crazy look on his face: "I said, sit down, I won't hurt you. If you don't listen to me, force me to do it?"

Everyone exclaimed, but no one dared to object.

The blood stained the man's robe, and it was so red that it couldn't be seen.

He deliberately chose the most eye-catching red, just to let everyone see him at first sight, just to become the focus of the crowd!

He got stronger and they had to listen to him.

The man clapped his hands gracefully, and the spell melted away the blood on his hands. He straightened his body and nodded towards everyone. He tried his best to present the most perfect self in front of others, and his every move seemed exaggerated and deliberate.

"Because I'm weak and I can't learn spells, you put on a superior posture, I admit it. But now?"

Feng Wujing paused, and suddenly, he laughed out loud.

"Now, take a closer look, who is stronger? It's your turn to bow down to me."

The man talked eloquently, talking about his own thoughts, his childhood experiences, his criticism of human nature, and the opposition between immortals and demons.

After all, no one had ever listened to him before.

Under the clear sky and scorching sun, no one made a sound.

There was only Feng Wujing's voice, and the more he spoke, the more excited he became, as if he wanted to vent all his dissatisfaction and anger these years.

In his mind, Chi Cang's voice suddenly appeared.

"Do you want revenge? Kill them!"

The man was slightly taken aback, he...

"They treat you like this, kill them, and this hatred will be relieved!"

The man hesitated a little. He thought of what his master had said to him for no reason, be kind to others, keep promises, and have a bottom line.

No, he can't.

The man shook his head.

There was a voice of hating iron but not steel in his mind, and Chi Cang scolded a piece of trash angrily, and then, a red shadow jumped up high, he laughed and swung his whip, it was mad drunk with magic power gathered.

In an instant, blood flowed like a river.

Feng Wujing watched all this from a distance, clenched his fists tightly, nails were embedded in his palms.

Chi Cang...he controlled him and lost his mind...

On the fairy mountain, no one survived.

Those insignificant Xiaoxiao people are not his opponents at all, and it is his master who can barely fight him for a few rounds.

Of course, his master is just an ordinary immortal cultivator after all, and he will not be the opponent of some devil's son.

It was the first time Feng Wujing saw this scene from a third-party perspective.

The man in red held the sword and climbed up the stone steps step by step. Finally, the blade of the sword pierced into the chest of the master in white, and he firmly nailed him to the stone wall.

On the white clothes, blood was mottled, and the master gritted his teeth, holding his last breath.

This time, Feng Wujing finally heard what he was saying.

"As a teacher, I knew you were the son of the demon spirit, and I don't regret it."

"Remember what I taught you, the bell... Take it well, don't cause harm to the world."

Blood falls.

Exhausted.