The breeze blew through the curtain, and the monk in the white robe put the sword back into the sheath, he thought for a moment and walked in.
On the mirror in his heart, the dust left by the Duke of Buckingham was gently changing, and he stepped on the string of danger, because he should be regarded as "dirty" and "forbidden" to the Blessed One. The mundane produces curiosity, and the original sin was born in the mundane. As early as when the mentor sighed, the seed called "curiosity" was planted in his heart.
In the lonely ascetic practice, he occasionally thinks of the family surrounded by bones and roses, and hears the flowers of sin that they bloom. Although it was only a glimpse of the reverie, the sin was still rooted in his mirror-like heart. Otherwise, when facing the Duke of Buckingham, he would not have said that as long as he stood up, he would let them go.
The white-robed cultivator had an intuition, if he wanted to remove the dust from his heart, then he should accept this invitation.
Several candles were lit in the tent, and the king sat on the high-backed chair, the back of the chair was plated into a blurred and dreamy gold by the warm yellow fire. The king's silver hair fell to his shoulders, and he was tufted in scarlet robes, his overly youthful face as white as snow. The moment he looked up, the white-robed cultivator felt that he saw an evil dragon waking up.
Dragon Slayer... Evil Dragon...
The white-robed monk thought and stepped into the king's main tent.
On the table in front of the king is a map of the cloth of the world. The white-robed cultivator saw that there were different marks on the map. In the territory of Blasey Kingdom, there were many symbols that looked like swords intersecting.
There was an empty chair opposite the king. The white-robed monk and the king were facing each other across the long table. The shadow of the holy fire slowly rose in the eyes of the white-robed monk. The tent was as silent as the moment before the snow-capped mountains collapsed. The flame on the sword on the waist of the white-robed monk had not been extinguished. As long as there was a moment, the white-robed monk could draw his sword and kill the king. There seems to be an invisible airflow circling around the two people.
After a while, the white-robed monk took a few steps forward and sat down in front of the king.
"I heard that the Blessed One is the most devout believer, devoting all his time to meditation and prayer to the Holy Spirit." The wind blew outside the tent, and the cold moon in the sky was blocked by the dark clouds drifting over, The king looked at the young monk sitting opposite, "Do you understand the meaning of the signs on these maps?"
"The Blessed One is the one who is destined to dedicate everything to the gods. If you don't mind, please advise." The white shawl on the white robe monk hung with golden tassels, which were floating slightly at this time, and the golden light was faint.
"This is the slaughterhouse, you brought it." The king pushed the map towards the white-robed monk. "Where every pair of swords intersect is a huge battlefield, where at least hundreds of people die every day. The Holy Court Not for salvation? Your universality and salvation are to bring fire and sword to believers? Ferry III, his followers, and their knights are also devout believers."
The white-robed monk looked down at the map.
Every pair of intersecting swords on the map unfolded, turning into a platter of blood and flesh. The white-robed cultivator doesn't understand politics, but he has seen many maps of the rebel generals discussing battle plans these days, and he has also heard some of the actions of the Holy Court. Therefore, when he saw this map, the white-robed cultivator was faintly surprised—the Bracey battlefield marked on Legrand's map of the king was extremely accurate.
How did he know about the war situation on the other side of the Abyss Strait
"Although Ferry III is a believer, he has made mistakes. His Holiness's decision is only to make him repent." The white-robed monk bowed slightly, "The establishment of the kingdom of God will spread the chant further, we have to The reason for this."
"What reason? Interest or ambition?" The king's eyes were sharp as a knife. "You are shaking yourself, aren't you? Otherwise you wouldn't accept my invitation. If I were from the sanctuary, I wouldn't let you become the congregation. One of the... you're too mobile."
"My mentor said the same thing back then." The white-robed cultivator admitted frankly, his eyes were as clear as a child's, "So I want to ask you a question."
"Speaking."
"Mr. Duke of Buckingham said we don't understand what you want. He said we don't understand at all." The white-robed monk's eyes filled with doubts, "Glory, money, power, power... The original sin of man originates from greed. , whatever you desire, we can give you."
"If you ask this question, it means that you really don't understand." The king sighed, "The shepherd gives fresh grass to the sheep, and at the same time he holds a whip to circle an invisible fence. Although there is everything inside the fence, but Those are all fake, and each one may become a sacrifice on the altar at any time. Therefore, there are always a few sheep who want to rush out of the fence and go to another sky, even if they live on a cliff, it doesn't matter. ."
"You think of us as shepherds, but walking with hell is definitely not a good choice." At some point in the tent, there was a surging night wind, and the white-robed monk stared at the king, "You have rejected the brilliance of the Holy Spirit, but with the help of Power from the dark. Don't you throw yourself into another fence like this?"
The camp outside the main tent seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep, and the soldiers seemed to be very tired after a day's march, and at this time they all fell asleep. The patrolling soldiers seemed to be far away. The sound of the turbulent water of the Lacey River not far away became very distant, as if the tent had lost contact with the outside world and was independent in a space.
Under the cover of the dark night, the thick black mist had silently enveloped him.
"for example?"
the king asked with a smile.
"For example, the gentleman behind you." The white-robed cultivator bowed slightly, "That's a remarkable existence. Do you know what they all mean? That's a real disaster."
The moment he bowed, holy fire spread from his clothes instantly, extending forward along the long tablecloth. The flames roamed like snakes, and the densely marked map on the table made a "hula" sound, bending and undulating in the air, and the pair of sword marks on the map turned darker in the fire. The fire jumped and became bigger, and the entire spacious king's main tent was clearly illuminated.
The light of the holy fire is bright white, and everything in the fire light seems to be covered with a faint holy light.
In the milky white light, something else is extraordinarily dazzling.
I saw a huge and complicated six-pointed array drawn on the tent floor, with two triangles overlapping in an upside-down position. Under the illumination of the Holy Light, these originally very hidden formations were exposed in an instant, and hell and the Holy Court were as incompatible as ice and fire. The complex and difficult magic circle uses ancient languages, and those languages themselves carry mysterious and powerful powers, but there is no way for humans to write such words.
It does not belong to the world.
There were black mists rising from the magic circle, and the mist did not disperse.
Facing the black mist coming towards him, the white-robed cultivator did not move, he just stared straight at the king. The black mist that was like a poisonous snake melted away in the holy light the moment it approached the white-robed cultivator, leaving nothing behind. On the contrary, on the long table in front of the king, the holy fire gathered together and turned into a sharp sword and stabbed straight at the king. The sharp sword condensed by the holy fire is invisible and intangible, and mortals cannot compete.
The shadow of the high-backed chair behind the king suddenly elongated, like a silhouette.
A pair of slender hands stretched out from the king's back, and when the lightsaber was less than half a palm-width away from the king's forehead, those hands held the blade of the lightsaber. There was a clear sound of "click", and the sword condensed by the holy flame shattered into many large and small light spots, scattered on the ground.
"Be polite, sir."
The devil hiding in the shadow behind the king raised his head, and he looked at the white-robed monk with a smile while wrapping the king in his arms.
"Don't touch other people's treasures... This is basic etiquette."
"Sure enough..."
The white-robed monk muttered to himself.
"One of the oldest devils."
The runes of the fire sword and the lightsaber appeared faintly in his pupils, giving his pupils an inhuman and eerie beauty.
When he set foot on Legrand, his mentor once gave him a special task:
Someone in Legrand has fallen into a heretic and signed a pact with the ancient devil of hell. He wants to seal the ancient devil before the power is restored, and cleanse the sinners who have become the bridge between hell and the world.
"...Every devil in the legendary era symbolizes a kind of disaster, and the more ancient the devil corresponds to the more terrifying disaster. They hold different powers of sin... Don't let them become more closely connected with humans, otherwise They will be able to penetrate their power through any slightest connection..."
This is what the teacher said when he taught him.
Legrand's Black Death was controlled too bizarrely, the touch of a king could not have the ability to solve the plague of a city. The white-robed monk had targeted Legrand's king from the very beginning, and he was also prepared.
Before stepping into the king's main tent, his hand was on the hilt of the holy sword, and he felt the dark aura that was well hidden in the tent.
At the moment when the lightsaber shattered, the formation on the ground shone brightly, and countless black chains shot out, blocking the space around the white-robed cultivator.
"The fallen shall be purged."
The white-robed monk said sharply, the sword hanging from his waist automatically unsheathed and floated in front of him. The chains closest to him shattered in an instant, and the white-robed cultivator reached out and grabbed the hilt of the sword.
The king and the devil delayed the time by talking to complete the layout of the formation, and he did the same!
He was also stalling for time to awaken the sacred sword at his waist.
This sword is a holy relic!