Cultivation Chat Group

How long am I staying in this urn?

Song Shuhang couldn't do anything at this time.

Apart from waiting in silence… there is only prayer.

“Senior White, Senior White Tow bless me so I can get out early.” Song Shuhang sincerely sends prayer signals with consciousness.

Never stay in this urn for a thousand years.

For a thousand years he fought only morning and evening.

In the future, when he really becomes a big man, he might consider shutting it down for a hundred years, a thousand years. But now he hasn't reached this point.

After prayer, Song Shuhang began to toss in the saint's ash box.

For example, look at 'immortal bone' —— although he has no idea what immortal bone is made of, he can wrap immortal bone with consciousness, finely sensing its surface structure.

If you are tired of research, you can drill in every corner of the urn to see the outside world from different angles.

He began to discover a pattern.

In this world, the saint's urn is orbiting, like a planet.

Likewise, white horses, meritocracy nets, large eyed beads, all have their own tracks.

Song Shuhang can see each other whenever the orbits of both parties run intersect.

The ash box came across a new landscape three times after rubbing itself against the 'white horse'.

It's a bodhi tree, and it shines bright lights.

Beneath the tree, there is a silver-white figure, as long as a towel is wrapped around your waist and you sit on your knees.

But he was not reciting the Scriptures.

This silver-white figure, carrying a barrel of strange dye in one hand, carefully paints a layer of gold onto her silver body.

He brushes carefully with a row of brushes around him, from head to toe, sometimes with a big brush, sometimes with a small brush… this is a man with several brushes.

Song Shuhang curiously measured the man.

What does this man have to do with generations of heaven?

He now has some speculation about the ‘world'.

In addition to the ash box of Confucian saints, all others, be they white horses, large eyeballs, kung fu nets, are a 'imprint fiction'.

Song Shuhang speculated that this is most likely the 'heavenly way’ of every testimony, leaving a ‘mark’ in this world when it inherits its its destiny and achieves immortality.

These marks, over and over again, run in this void, tired.

The white horse most likely corresponds to Senior White Tow's seventh day.

Kung Fu Networks should be the lucky white predecessor, Two Tiandao, and most likely the creator of Kung Fu Snake Beauty Practice.

Big Eyes should be the next day, the predecessor of Spotted Dragon Heavenly Way.

So, which heavenly way does this silver white figure correspond to?

Fourth or fifth day?

Or... is that the prototype of the fat man's Liquid Metal Ball?

Liquid metal balls tendo, it seems, can melt the human form, and it is also the silver and white color of this metal.

The more Song Shuhang wants to feel the possibility.

So he hastily shrunk his consciousness and kept quiet.

After all, unlike other lanes, Liquid Metal Ball Lane is still in service and is not retired. Perhaps its' imprint fiction ’would be more special?

At this time, the man with several brushes suddenly pulled the towel around his waist.

“It's hard to paint here.” The man spoke and grabbed the little brush and pondered for a moment: “Why don't you cut it off, cut it flat, and paint it a little better. ”

Song Shuhangmei gazed: “!!! ”

“No, never. It can still grow, but if you cut it, it won't be easy to explain. I can't say I was cut off when I was fighting.” After a few moments of tangling, the man with several brushes began to brush carefully in his waist position with a small brush.

Song Shuhang: “…”

“Yo, Big Saint Ash Box, meet you again.” The man with several brushes suddenly waved at the saint's urn.

Waving, his hands suddenly stiffened.

Song Shuhang could sense that the man with several brushes found him.

So embarrassing.

After a moment of stiffness, the man suddenly quickly put away all his brushes, and then sat under the Bodhi tree with his golden plates and legs, hands together: “Bodhi has no tree, and the mirror is not a platform. Buddha is always clean, where there is dust! The heart is a Bodhi tree, as a mirror table. Clean mirrors, where to stain dust! ”

“There are laws, such as fantasy bubbles, such as dew and electricity. It should be viewed as such. ”

The temperament of a noble monk spreads from him.

Mindful, the man looked up at the saint's ash box and said to Song Shuhang's consciousness: “Master, do you understand? ”

[Am I enlightened? Song Shuhang really wanted to go back to this man with several brushes, unfortunately he is now in a state of consciousness, unable to speak.

“Master, your enlightenment is too low.” The golden man shook his head gently: “Everything you've just seen is a dream, a shadow. ”

Song Shuhang: “…”

He can now determine one thing, this golden and brilliant man exists in a way that is different from several other 'idols of heaven'.

He may, like the Confucian saints, enter the world by other means.

Moreover, Song Shuhang discovered that he and this man with several brushes could communicate, with only one move of mind, the other person could read his meaning.

Needless to say, it's the old man's standard reading mind again.

“No, it's not called mind-reading. It's called heart-to-heart tele-reading.” The man clapped his hands and smiled mercifully: "Lord, you can call me Master. ”

“Master… can I ask you a question?” Song Shuhang asked.

He wondered if there was a way out of that space.

“The donor asks, although the donor is foolish in your qualifications, I… the poor monk will surely explain it carefully.” The golden master smiled slightly.

Song Shuhang is glad he doesn't have a physical head now, otherwise he will definitely have a brain ache.

After adjusting his mind, he asked: "Master, you..."

“Loved.” The Golden Master flew back quickly.

Song Shuhang: “??? ”

“Isn't that right, then?” The Golden Master added.

Song Shuhang: “…”

“Not yet? That Bao Da, can swim, can save you, this question will not, today is nothing, no money, like salted tofu brain, identity is secret, age, no merit, no apprentice...” The Golden Master's mouth flies up and down, the fast track.

Song Shuhang: “…”

“Is there anything else that needs to be explained by the needy?” The Golden Master smiled slightly and continued.

Song Shuhang: “…”