THE GUIDE TO CAPTURING A BLACK LOTUS

CHAPTER 31: DI JI'S TROUBLES (6)

The grass fell down with the wind, and the continuous mountain peaks were like black shadows catching the sky. At the foot of the mountain was the bloody sunlight, but under the cornices was another color. The walls seem to be shrouded in a cloud of fog.

    Having seen "one-line sky" and never seen such a "one size fits all", Ling Miaomiao couldn't help frowning: "What's going on, it's too evil."

    Mu Sheng did not say a word , and his dark eyes stared motionlessly. There, the corners of his mouth tightened, and the demon handle in his sleeve slipped silently, and his hands "clicked" tightly.

    Ling Miaomiao knew that he was on alert at the moment.

    The sword-like sunlight hit his forehead directly. He didn't hide, but stood straight against the light, just squinting his eyes slightly.

    The sky was inexplicably cloudy, the swimming clouds covered the sun, and the light and the cloudy chased each other. The high mountains in the distance suddenly seemed to obscure the sky, and there seemed to be only two of them in the wasteland for a few miles.

    Mu Sheng's hair band fluttered in the wind, making a whirring sound, gently rubbing her cheek.

    Ling Miaomiao posted an inch to his side: "This... isn't the Xingshan Temple we visited that day, right?"

    Mu Sheng turned his head to look at her. Miaomiao raised her chin to the gray side hall: "'Qingqing Yijiansong, transplanted in the lotus palace', the poem on the wall is gone." The

    corner of the boy's mouth was slightly tilted, and his eyelashes were slightly raised. His eyes were dark: "It's really smart, but..." His smile deepened, and suddenly it became a mockery, "The mountain is so big out of thin air, do you still need to distinguish it by two lines?"

    Ling Miaomiao turned his head and glanced continuously. Yuanshan: "..."

    As the "Xingshan Temple" gets closer and closer, the sky becomes more gloomy and the wind gets stronger and stronger, sweeping the fallen leaves, sweeping the dust, and gradually scraping the bones.

    Ling Miaomiao kept looking up at the sky. The sky had turned dark yellow and he was confused. The shadows of the trees in the distance were shaking violently, making a "crash" sound. "Hey..." She reminded softly, "It looks like a sandstorm."

    Mu Sheng was meditating all the way. Hearing Miao Miao's words, he raised his head and looked at the sky sideways, his eyes turned slowly.

    "Yeah..." Miaomiao followed, fascinated the dust, quickly reached out her hand to hold Mu Sheng's clothes, began to cough frantically, tears flowing, "Shall we find a place to avoid it?"

    Mu Sheng lowered his head. Looking at the hand holding the corner of his clothes-he had been thrown into the crowd too many times, and grabbing him became her habitual action.

    Ling Miaomiao had already coughed and bent down, his knuckles tightened, and he pulled him forward. He lowered his eyebrows: "Sand has entered the eyes, not in the throat. What are you crazy about?"

    Ling Miaomiao Miaomiao stood up straight, rubbing her eyes, a pair of apricots flushed like rabbits: "What do you know, my father taught me, so that you can shake the sand out of your eyes." She stretched her face forward as if showing off, "Hey, Look."

    "..." He grasped Ling Miaomiao's chin, regardless of her struggle, and took a closer look. Under those big and black eyes, the eyes were so red as to bleed, but inexplicably. There is a morbid special color.