"Did you go crazy...?" The guard repeated his words slowly, and then snorted, "A cultivator?"
"Um."
"You came here at a young age, and you are really wronged."
The guards are not smiling. Many people in the mortals have no wisdom roots and can't form a good relationship. When mocking the Taoist priests, there are always some meanings that they can't eat grapes and say that grapes are sour.
"I see you, the soul is not quite right, not pure."
Master Guilty cast a spell on Mo Ran, letting him hide the breath of the living and be able to contact the soul, so the guards could not see him, but it was always a little uncomfortable, so Shi Shiran sat down again and raised Erlang's legs , took out a black ruler from the drawer.
"The ruler." He said triumphantly, although he didn't know what he was proud of, and the ruler was not his, but the younger the official, the more he liked to show off. The guard slammed the ruler on the table and rolled his eyelids. Staring at the ink burning, "Stretch out your hand and let this officer test your merits."
Ink burning: "..."
His virtuous virtues
Will it be possible to directly twist him to the god Yama and crush him into pieces
But in the eyes of everyone, he had nowhere to escape, so he could only sigh, holding the soul lamp in one hand and reaching out in the other.
The guard put the ruler on his pulse, and almost as soon as he touched it, the guilty ruler screamed, the black ruler gurgling blood, accompanied by the mourning of thousands of people.
"I'm dying..."
"Mo Weiyu, you must never die!!"
"Father! Mother!! Why are you dog thing!! Why!!!"
"Don't kill me... please, don't kill me—"
The ink burned his hand back suddenly, and his face was as pale as paper in an instant.
The ghosts in that circle were staring at him faintly, and the guard's eyes were particularly obscure. He stared at the ink like a tiger, and after a while, he looked down at the ruler.
The red light on the ruler disappeared, and the blood seemed to be an illusion just now. I don't know where it went. The table was clean, and only a line of words gradually appeared on the body of the ruler.
—
Unforgivable sin, escort the first...
What level of hell
Because the ink burned and stopped before the ruler was measured, and the top was not finished.
The guard grabbed his arm violently, staring at him fiercely and viciously, as if a hunter who had been bored for a long time had finally caught a rare bird. His nose flickered, his eyes flashed strangely, and most of his intestines had almost flowed out, but this time he didn't even bother to stuff it back.
"Don't move, you give me another test."
He was impatient, greedy, and was almost asking Yama for credit.
His ghost claws deeply grabbed Mo Ran's wrist, forcibly dragged him over, and madly stabbed the other's flesh and blood with the ruler.
If he can catch a ghost who can go down to eighteen levels of hell, it will be a great credit. He can at least sit on the ground and level up to three levels, and no longer need to write every single ray of loneliness at the gate of the city every day. Soul contact.
"Test! Take a good test!"
The guilt ruler lit up again.
There is still blood flowing, crying all over the sky.
The people who have been killed by the ink burn, and the sins they have made, seem to be squeezed into this small black ruler, and the grievances in the sky almost break the ruler.
"I hate..."
"Mo Weiyu, I won't let you go even if I die..."
The face of the burning ink became more and more ugly, he lowered his eyes, his lips were tightly pursed, and he did not know what color it was in his eyes.
"You have no conscience!! You turned the world into purgatory!"
"I won't let you go even if I'm a ghost!"
"Ah!"
Weeping, howling, cursing, resentment.
Suddenly, among so many voices, a faint sigh was heard.
"I'm sorry, the ink burns, it's the master's fault..."
The ink burned and opened his eyes suddenly, and there was a sorrow in his eyes.
He heard the voice of Chu Wanning in his previous life when he was dying, so soft and sad, but like a sharp knife penetrating into his skull, almost splitting his soul.
Those voices gradually weakened, and the ruler returned to calm.
The above line of small print reappears:
Unforgivable sin, escorted to the first...
This time, the ink burned without removing the hand in advance, but this line of words is still not finished!
The guard was stunned for a moment, then patted the black ruler: "Broken?"
Unexpectedly, the black ruler trembled slightly, and after a while, the line of words dissipated on its own, a thin fairy air floated on the ruler, and an infinitely brilliant light flashed out.
This time, there were no cries coming from the ruler, but the birds were facing the phoenix, and their delicate voices pierced into the clouds, as if the elegant music from the Nine Heavens had descended on the underworld.
When Xianyin stopped, the guard suddenly returned to his senses.
Looking at it again, six characters have fallen on the ruler—
Ordinary soul, feasible.
The guard lost his voice: "This is impossible!"
Wasn't it still unforgivable? Why is it so normal again
He was not reconciled, and took the ruler to measure it many times, but every time the result was the same: first the screams, then the good news, and in the end, without exception, they were all written as ordinary souls, feasible.
The guard was extremely disappointed. He had no reason to stop an ordinary soul from entering the underworld.
He started stuffing his own intestines viciously again, and said as he stuffed it, "Hey, I think you really went crazy and died."
The ink burned was also quite unexpected, and he didn't know why. He thought about it and guessed that it was probably the spell of the guilty master that confused the ruler, and he was a little relieved.
"Go away, hold it according to your body, it will delay your grandfather for a long time, don't hurry up!"
"..." Mo Ran couldn't get what he wanted, and was about to leave with the soul lamp, and suddenly the guard's eyes lit up and shouted at him—
"stop!"
Mo Ran's heartbeat is very fast, but his face is still calm, and he seems helpless: "What's wrong?"
The guard raised his chin: "What are you holding in your arms?"
"Oh, this..." The ink burned and rubbed the soul lamp, and the thoughts flashed in my heart, and turned to smile, "It's my funeral."
"Funeral?"
"Yes, it's a magic weapon."
"Oh. It's interesting." The guard pointed to the table, his eyes flashing, "Put your funeral here and test it again. I'm afraid it's your magic tool that confuses the ruler."
"… "
Mo Ran has already scolded this calf in his heart, but he has no choice but to put down the soul lamp and stretch out his wrist again uneasily.
The guard seemed to have a plan, and couldn't wait to press the ruler again.
…
The result is still the same.
There are still six words, clearly: ordinary soul, feasible.
Not to mention the guards, even the ink burns are ignorant, but after testing this way, the other party is finally completely dead, and he is too lazy to wave his hands and let him in.
The ink burned and didn't dare to stay for a long time, picked up the soul-inducing lamp, and walked through the long corridor until the end, the light changed.
The ghost world unfolded before his eyes.
This is the first floor of hell, and at first glance there is no end to it. The sky was scarlet, like a burning glow. Strange vines and different trees rose from the ground, the houses near were jagged, and the palaces and buildings were lined in the distance. At the entrance, there is a huge boulder that reaches the sky, with the inscription "Er Cao Pi returns to the dust, and the soul returns to Nanke Township". Next to it stands a red lacquer archway, and Jinshui melts the three characters of "Nanke Township", each of which is as tall as an adult male.
It turns out that the first floor of this hell is called Nanke Township. If there is no abnormality in the dead, they will all live here for ten or eight years, waiting for the judge to call them, and then go to the second floor to judge.
The ink burned holding the soul lamp, watching and walking.
The layout is not too different from the human world. There are eighteen streets, nine horizontal and nine vertical. Ghost men, ghost women, and ghost children walked around, laughing and crying, crying and mournful, carrying a group of demons dancing wildly, and hundreds of ghosts walking at night.
Dongbianer heard a newly mourned woman sobbing: "What should I do, what should I do, they all say that the woman who remarries will be cut in half, the head and the foot, each will belong to the two dead men, this is true Who can tell me, is this true?"
There was also a girl with her clothes exposed and her hair disheveled beside her wiping her tears: "If I don't want to do that secret door, I really can't afford to live. Before I died, I went to the Temple of the Earth to donate a threshold, and I wanted thousands of people to step on it. Atonement for me. But the village chief said that he would have to pay him four hundred gold to allow me to change the threshold. If I have so much money, why bother to do the flesh business... "
There are also men in the west who are counting: "Four hundred and one days, four hundred and two days, four hundred and three days... She agreed that I will leave and she will leave, and the children died together, why did I stay here for four hundred years? It's been four days, and she still hasn't come down. Alas, she is so weak, could it be that she lost her way on Huangquan Road, and if she is really lost, what should I do?"
The newly dead ghosts gathered in groups of three or five at the gate of Nanke Township, still unwilling and lingering.
But going forward, they are all old ghosts who have already returned to their souls and accepted their fate.
They were more calm, more poised, had their own livelihoods, spent their days in poverty, and waited for the judgment by the long time.
When you reach the third street, you can see the hustle and bustle of the downtown, no less than the world.
In the end, they are all ghosts who have not broken their flesh and bones, and they are still indistinguishable between ghosts and men without drinking Meng Po soup. She was from Liyuan before her death, she was still doing juggling on the streets, she was an embroiderer in her life, and she was weaving clothes by pulling the clouds of hell when she died. The butcher did not dare to kill any more, but he could always make a living by sharpening knives and choking scissors.
The sound of hawking, the sound of applause, one after another, bustling.
The ink burned to a ghost who sold calligraphy and painting. The ghost probably didn't sell a painting before he was alive, and starved to death, so his face was yellow and thin, his cheekbones were raised, and his flanks were sunken.
Seeing someone sitting in front of his booth, the thin scholar raised his dim eyes, but his expression was eager: "Master, buy a painting?"
"I want you to draw a picture of me."
The scholar seemed a little regretful: "The characters are better than the mountains and rivers, and they always lack artistic conception. Look at this picture of Taishan's smoke and clouds..."
The ink burned: "I don't like landscape painting, so I will make you paint me a person."
"Don't like landscapes?" The scholar glanced at him and was not very happy. "The benevolent person is happy with mountains, the wise person is happy with water, and the young master should cultivate his sentiments and smell more Danqing fragrance. I'm reluctant to sell it, but since you came to my booth to ask, you don't think you have no wisdom, so I'll be cheaper with you—"
"I want to draw people."
Scholar: "..."
The eyes of the two confronted each other, and the scholar was his opponent. After a while, he was counseled, but after counseling, he was quite angry, and the face of the dead ghost seemed to have some angry blood.
"I don't paint people. If I want to paint, I will pay ten times the price."
The ink burned: "The ghost world also needs money?"
"Family and friends, when you bring paper money, there is always." The scholar said coldly, "Having money can make a ghost run the mill. Although I don't like the smell of copper, a gentleman loves money and gets it in a proper way. You I am neither a relative nor a friend, and I have no knowledge of Boya Ziqi, so why should I suffer for you for no reason?"
He talked a lot, but the ink burned this person who didn't read much, and immediately frowned: "I just came, and no one has burned me money."
The scholar said: "No money to sell."
The ink burned for a moment, thought of an idea, and pointed to the smoke cloud map of Mount Tai: "Okay, if you don't sell it, you won't sell it. But I have nothing to do, can you listen to me about this landscape painting?"
The scholar was stunned for a moment, then turned his anger into joy: "Do you want to hear this?"
Mo Ran nodded: "Listen to your knowledge, you don't have to pay, right?"
"No need." The scholar was very arrogant, with a ridiculous and pitiful brilliance on his face, "If you don't talk about money in your knowledge, you will get dirty if you talk about it. You shouldn't be vulgar when it comes to scholars."
The ink burned and nodded again, thinking that he knew why this little bookworm starved to death. Although he thought it was funny, he was somewhat unbearable in his heart, but unfortunately he was shy, otherwise he really wanted to give him some silver taels.
The scholar excitedly took the framed picture from the shelf, put on a stance, cleared the ghost's throat that didn't need to be cleared, and said arrogantly and arrogantly, "Then I'll start."
Seeing that the little bookworm took the bait, the ink burned and smiled: "Ask for advice."
The author has something to say: This chapter has many settings and lines. It pays tribute to the arrogant and complaining middle-class young Mr. Lu Xun. The character prototypes and part of the lines of the ghost woman and ghost scholar come from Xianglinsao and Kong. Yiji, mark it here to avoid misunderstanding.