He just became the last Celestial Master, and the school beauty is already calling him "Dad&quo

Yang Guang couldn't listen to it anymore.

He stepped forward, grabbed Chu Sheng by the back of his collar, and forcefully ripped the two-hundred-pound fleshy ball off the old monk.

"Alright, alright, stop howling."

Yang Guang released his grip and looked at the old monk.

The old monk intended to use his spiritual cultivation to suppress what lay beneath the cemetery, transforming himself into an array and his life into a lock.

Yang Guang had seen this kind of operation in the notes left by his grandfather.

It is indeed feasible.

But the cost is enormous.

To put it bluntly, it's about risking your life in exchange for a few decades of peace.

Is the thing down there really that ferocious?

"Do you really have to do this?"

"I think it's still worth a try."

"How about we try it together?"

The old monk slowly shook his head and said, "I have cultivated for sixty years and have no regrets."

"The only thing I can't let go of is this disciple."

"He doesn't seem very bright..."

Chu Sheng, standing nearby, grew anxious: "Master!"

The old monk smiled, interrupted him, and continued, "But he has a kind heart."

"This old monk only asks that you look after him until he is able to stand on his own."

That's all.

Yang Guang stared at the old monk for a full five seconds.

Then he turned to look at Chu Sheng.

Chu Sheng was squatting on the ground, his two chubby hands covering his face, his shoulders heaving, crying like a two-hundred-pound baby.

Yang Guang looked at the old monk again.

The old monk continued to smile. That smile made Yang Guang very uncomfortable.

Because it was too peaceful.

He was so calm, it was unlike someone who was about to die.

Yang Guang put his hand back in his pocket.

He neither said it was good nor bad.

He simply took out the tiny fragment of the Seven Star Dragon Spring Sword, about the size of a fingernail, twirled it between his fingers, and then put it back in his pocket.

"You owe me a really huge favor."

"The last one was one I owed myself, and I paid out hundreds of thousands for him."

"You're something else."

"They just shoved someone over there."

"I, Yang Guang, run a postpartum care center, not a daycare center."

The old monk did not respond.

Because he saw the answer that Yang Guang hadn't said aloud.

Just as Yang Guang was about to say something more sarcastic, the ground beneath his feet suddenly shook.

It's not an illusion.

It was a real, tangible tremor.

Er Lengzi's four legs tensed up at the same time, and the piece of beef bone in his mouth fell directly to the ground.

It barked fiercely towards the cliff.

The old monk's smile finally disappeared.

He suddenly lowered his head, and the speed at which he formed hand seals increased dramatically.

"It's too late."

Large beads of sweat appeared on the old monk's forehead, and for the first time, his dry voice became urgent: "It's coming out."

The gravel beneath Yang Guang's feet began to tremble slightly.

From the crevice at the bottom of the cliff, a thick, blackish aura was seeping out.

The sheer density of that yin energy made Yang Guang's hair stand on end.

He glanced down at the ground.

The crack is widening.

In the cracks of the gravel, a grayish-white, withered finger is slowly emerging from the soil.

The finger was an extremely dull gray, and the nail was long and curled up.

It looks like it's been rotting in a graveyard for hundreds of years.

It slowly pushed aside the soil, and a second finger emerged.

Then came the third one.

The ground trembled more and more violently, and pebbles flew high into the air, crashing against the surrounding stone walls with a loud crackling sound.

Er Lengzi's fur instantly bristled into a ball.

Its two hind legs buckled, its tail was tucked under its belly, and the dog staggered back three steps in an extremely embarrassing manner.

then.

It made a move that Yang Guang would never forget.

This husky, which claims to be fearless, eats Kumanthong and chews chicken bones, and even dares to steal food from a stone unicorn, plunged headfirst into Yang Guang's pants.

His head was buried tightly in Yang Guang's arms, and his whole body was trembling like a leaf.

Yang Guang was completely numb.

He kicked the simpleton's dog on the head, sending the furry ball flying a long way: "You get the hell out here!"

"You dared to shove your head down my pants in broad daylight?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a dog, not an ostrich!"

"Where's your face?"

Er Lengzi was kicked away and rolled twice on the gravel ground. After getting up, he still tucked his tail between his legs, his heterochromatic eyes filled with fear.

It mumbled incoherently, "It's not that I'm afraid... I'm just making a tactical retreat..."

Yang Guang didn't have time to deal with this guy.

His attention was completely fixed on the hand on the ground.

All five fingers were now visible.

The grayish-white, withered hands were pushing out the mud, and the wrists were faintly visible.

The yin energy emanating from that hand was so thick that it made Yang Guang frown.

This density is abnormal.

Even the zombies I encountered at Lin Ran's funeral hall were nothing compared to this thing.

This thing underground has been nurtured for at least several decades.

Just as Yang Guangdie was considering whether or not to make a direct move.

The old monk moved.

The old monk, who was sitting cross-legged on the gravel ground and covered in mud and ash, slowly turned his head.

He looked at Yang Guang.

Laughed.

That smile was different from before. Before, it was calm.

Now I feel relieved: "Thank you."

Just four words.

Although he spoke lightly, the weight behind his words was considerable.

Yang Guang opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he had already opened it.

The old monk had already looked away.

He slowly clasped his hands together, interlaced his fingers, and placed them against his chest.

His aged back was ramrod straight.

Then he closed his eyes.

"Amitabha."

The moment those four words were uttered from the old monk's mouth, Yang Guang's body swayed violently backward.

Because the old monk's body shone brightly.

They were all glowing with golden light.

soft.

But it's terrifying.

The overwhelming aura of Buddhism swept over the area, and the yin energy on the entire gravel ground, illuminated by the golden light, hissed and steamed as it receded, just like boiling water poured onto an ice surface.

Yang Guang subconsciously took half a step back.

That power was too pure.

Behind the old monk, a huge phantom of Buddha was slowly coalescing.

The golden Dharma image sits upright in the void, with lowered eyes and a compassionate expression.

The phantom was ridiculously large, occupying almost half the area of ​​the cliff.

Yang Guang stared at the Buddha image, with only one thought in his mind.

That old bald monk has been hiding his true abilities all along!

Yang Guang learned orthodox Taoism from his grandfather from a young age and had almost no contact with Buddhism.

However, my grandfather's notes recorded that monks who could conjure up the image of Buddha at the time of their death would be considered the most important figures in major temples during the Dharma-ending Age.

Not to mention this degenerate age.

Monks of this caliber are few and far between, you could count them on your fingers all over the country.

So this is the only big shot who would willingly come to Fengdu City to die?

What exactly is down there?

The golden light grew brighter and brighter.

The grayish-white, withered hand underground began to tremble violently, its fingers retracting one by one.

The soil closed up again.

The gravel stopped bouncing.

The yin energy receded rapidly, and the crack healed at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The ground was level again, and everything was over.

A single Buddhist chant suppressed all the terror and gloom, as well as the thing that almost crawled out.

The golden light began to dissipate.

The illusory image of the Buddha is also fading away.

The old monk remained in the gesture of pressing his palms together, his back straight, without moving an inch.

Chu Sheng's cries erupted at this moment.

"Master..."