Outside the mouth of the gorge was a battle of the peak of martial arts in the world. Dozens of miles upstream of the battlefield on the bank of the Guangling River, there was only a muddle-headed monk left in the thatched cottage without the Taoist who still owed the villagers a dozen peach wood swords. When Wang Xiaoping passed away quietly with her hands folded on her knees, the Mad Monk also took off the tattered kasaya that had accompanied him all the way from Mount Lantuo and changed into clean clothes that he had asked Wang Xiaoping to buy from the market two days ago. The middle-aged Taoist, who had always been serious, even made an exception and joked that he didn't need to return the money to collect the corpse.
The monk touched his bald head and then stretched out his hand to pluck a reed leaf from the reeds on the bank of the river. He stepped on the surface of the river and gently stepped on the reed.
A reed went into the river.
A few ships went against the current, and before the first wave had subsided, another wave rose. They had just witnessed the hearty battle between the two immortals, and now they happened to see this scene. They were a little shocked to the point of numbness. They were all wondering what kind of great luck they had bumped into today. It was simply as if immortals had appeared in large numbers. However, all of them had appeared in such a way. Could it be that the reclusive masters were so worthless?
The reed leaf went out of the gorge and floated to the center of the river. The useless monk, who was no longer wearing the kasaya, looked left and right. He first looked at Wang Xiaoping and then the old Taoist. With a calm expression, he took a step forward and quickly sank to the bottom of the river.
At the bottom of the Guangling River, the water was muddy and the light was dim. Looking for people and things was no different from looking for a needle in a haystack. However, he still accurately landed a few feet away from the purple-clothed woman. The six senses and seven apertures of the woman of Mount Hui were all sealed. Her delicate body was curled up like a baby in the womb and the heaven and earth were her parents.
Liu Songtao stared at the woman in a daze.
The old Daoist on the shore, who had stubbornly cultivated in seclusion, had left Mount Longhu because he wanted to see her face before she died. Going forward, the reason why he cultivated in Mount Longhu was also an unspeakable secret that very few people knew about.
A hundred years ago, the three of them traveled the Jianghu hand in hand. He was not yet a monk of Mount Lantuo, but the ninth cult master of Mount Zhulu. Among all the cult masters of the Devil Cult, he was the most unlike the cult master of Mount Zhulu. And that Taoist was not the current resident of Longhu Mountain. He was the Fourth Prince of the Liyang Royal Family, who was recognized as better than the Crown Prince. His achievements, knowledge, martial arts, and talent were all outstanding. As for the delicate and naive woman who ended up with an extremely miserable life, she did not have a country-toppling beauty, nor did she have an insufferably arrogant background. However, Liu Songtao, who had concealed his identity and traveled in Jianghu, just happened to fall in love with her. Yet, she fell in love with that handsome childe named Zhao Huangchao. Liu Songtao did not mind this. With the two of them traveling together, where in the world could she not go? During this period of time, Liu Songtao didn't feel sad as he watched the woman he loved smile sweetly at other men. But when he returned to Mount Zhulu and came out of Closed Door Meditation, he heard the grievous news that Zhao Huangchao had single-handedly caused. He silently went down the mountain. Just like today, he also helped to collect the body, put on clothes for her, and carried her back to the mountain.
Liu Songtao went down the mountain for the last time. He killed countless famous Jianghu figures who were fishing for fame, as well as countless high-ranking princes, dukes, and famous ministers. After killing them, every time he turned around, he always felt that she was standing there and smiling.
Liu Songtao looked at the woman in purple who was both her and not her, and his tears kept flowing.
Liu Songtao stretched out his hand, trying to grab the corner of the big purple dress that was gently floating at the bottom of the river. Then he slowly withdrew his hand and his body began to float up. He broke through the water surface and lightly touched the water surface, laughing loudly and singing loudly.
The surface of the river was like the surface of a drum, thumping loudly.
"Heaven and earth are useless, they don't enter my eyes. Sun and moon are useless, they can't exist together. Kunlun is useless, they can't come to me. Compassion is useless, they are sanctimonious. Tranquility is useless, their sleeves are empty. Great river is useless, they go east and never return. Wind and snow are useless, they can't fill their stomachs. Grass is useless, they wither with each passing year. Karma is useless, they are all fixed. Jianghu is useless, we forget each other … "
Liu Songtao lowered his head and chanted like a Buddhist monk, like a madman singing a sad song. He swept to the shore and lowered his head to stare at the Wudang Sword Maniac who was smiling as he went to his death. He restrained his arrogant and domineering attitude and moved his lips slightly. He put his palms together and chanted sutras to send the swordsman off.
Liu Songtao opened his eyes and looked around. Then he looked at the sky and laughed loudly, "Meditation is useless, how can you become a Buddha?!"
At the same time, Liu Songtao's shoulders shook and his pale face flashed away. Then he glowed with a kind of purple-gold color that only eminent monks who had attained Bodhi in the Buddhist scriptures would have.
That shake of his shoulders made this Zhulu Mountain cult leader seem like he wanted to shake off a heavy burden that he had been carrying for a long time.
The old Taoist Zhao Huangchao narrowed his eyes and his face was gloomy. He had already calculated that Wang Xiaoping's peach wood sword, which had been ready but not released, seemed to be carrying a heavy burden and would be sent west to Wudang Mountain in Beiliang.
Liu Songtao, who had hidden in Mount Lantuo for a hundred years, also wanted to get involved in this mess?
Zhao Huangchao was hesitant. In the end, he still did not immediately stop Liu Songtao from shaking off the invisible object.
Before Liu Songtao moved forward, he looked back at Zhao Huangchao, who had been entangled with grievances for a hundred years.
The two of them looked at each other.
Liu Songtao sneered, "You are even inferior to a woman! It was like this a hundred years ago, and it is even more so a hundred years later. Old thief Zhao, why don't you die?! "
Zhao Huangchao, who had once gone out of his body and rode a dragon to Mount Kuanglu, was silent.
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