The red flame turned into a lotus flower, and the figure of the woman in red merged with the long knife.
Leng Yumo's eyes were full of determination.
Since it is already a dead end with no way to retreat, let's fight to the death.
Even if there were no bones left, at least she never flinched cowardly.
Jiaolong slowly showed a figure that covered the sky and the sun, and looked at the humble human beings who dared to resist, showing a mocking expression.
The huge claws stretched out, and it only took a moment to grab the frail body and crush it into a pulp.
He likes to hear the sound of the prey screaming and screaming in his paws and mouth.
However, just as Jiaolong's claws were about to be stretched out, his body froze suddenly.
The huge eyeballs rolled stiffly.
Finally, it landed in front of Leng Yumo.
There, at some point, a young monk wearing a golden-red cassock appeared.
A pair of dark as ink, bottomless eyes are looking at it quietly.
The golden bowl in his hand emitted a faint light.
Jiaolong's body trembled instinctively.
It has a kind of fear from the depths of the soul for that golden bowl.
"Amitabha." The little monk recited softly.
A little cinnabar appeared quietly between the eyebrows.
That originally immature, pure, and holy face was inexplicably tinged with evil spirits that made people tremble.
The heavy Dharma sound flowed out from the opened and closed lips.
A red light shot up from the golden bowl, piercing directly between Jiaolong's eyebrows.
The shrill screams resounded through the sky.
The sea below rolled violently, setting off turbulent waves.
The behemoths under the bottom of the sea tried their best to hide in the depths one by one, silent and trembling.
Finally, the body of the screaming dragon disappeared, but there was a small silver-blue swimming snake in the golden bowl of the little monk.
But only for a moment, it disappeared into the golden bowl.
The little monk turned around slowly, looked at the pale girl with blood on the corner of her mouth, and lowered her head slightly: "Amitabha, Master Leng, you are fine..."
Before he finished speaking, he saw the body of the person opposite him shaking slightly.
He fell directly into the sea.
"Yumo!" The little monk's face changed drastically, and he rushed over without thinking, and hugged him into his arms.
"Are you badly hurt?"
Jing Yuan didn't realize that the voice he spoke was so frightened and trembling.
However, as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realized that something was wrong.
The girl in his arms looked at him with a half-smile.
Although he was indeed injured, it was not impossible for even Yukong to do it.
"Little monk, since when did you follow me secretly?"
Jing Yuan's face flushed instantly.
It took him a while before he stammered: "Little monk, I... I'm not..."
Halfway through the conversation, he realized that he, he was still hugging Leng Yumo.
The bodies of the two are so close.
So close that he could clearly feel her temperature.
There is also the tactile sensation of tightly hugging people with fingertips, which cannot be ignored even through clothes.
Jing Yuan panicked and wanted to let go: "Little... little monk is abrupt..."
Unexpectedly, Leng Yumo grabbed his skirt and said weakly: "Now that my spiritual power is exhausted, you just let me go, do you want to throw me into the sea?"
Jing Yuan's hand that he wanted to let go suddenly tightened.
This time, but... it was too tight.
It was so tight that it seemed that it wanted to rub people directly into its own flesh and blood.
Leng Yumo couldn't help but let out a muffled snort.
Jing Yuan's already red face was almost on fire.
At the same time, it was accompanied by an uncontrollable faster heartbeat and thicker panting.