Yang Ji was shocked. He clearly remembered that Yi Xiantian once said that although the evil spirit has a huge body, it is actually the "Tianyin Cult Master" underground who controls it.
"Did he find me?"
Yang Ji was horrified. Just a deputy leader of the Tianyin Sect could be inextricably linked to Yi Xiantian. If that leader came out, wouldn't he be certain to die?
"Don't worry, I have blocked his perception."
That voice seemed to know what Yang Ji was thinking, and it sounded directly in Yang Ji's mind, and the voice was extremely loud.
Yang Ji breathed a sigh of relief, but then he realized something and became more and more horrified.
If this voice is not the leader of Tianyin, then who is he? And he said that it has blocked the perception of the leader of Tianyin, isn't it more powerful than the leader of Tianyin?
And why did he say "You're coming..." as if he knew he would come?
"Boom!"
Before Yang Ji could figure out the key, the next moment, a white light flashed, and a huge force suddenly wrapped around Yang Ji and pulled him down.
Although Yang Ji has been promoted to the fourth level of martial arts and condensed the "Blood Furnace", he is unable to resist at all in the face of this power that changes the color of the world.
The world was spinning before his eyes, and the black and white lights and shadows were changing like seasoning. Before Yang Ji could react, there was a bang, and Yang Ji suddenly felt a magnificent and majestic power.
Feeling the breath of power, Yang Ji suddenly stopped struggling.
"This is……"
Yang Ji was shocked and confused. This aura was majestic, upright, and contained endless upright power. It was completely opposite to the dark aura of the evil spirit.
"Haoran is upright!"
Yang Ji could hardly believe his eyes. In the dark body of the evil spirit, there was actually a majestic "aura of awe" similar to the pen and ink of the literary saint.
Moreover, this force is extremely powerful. Even the likes of Yi Xiantian are like a small stream to a stream or a river to the sea.
"Why is there the aura of a literary saint here?!"
Yang Ji was completely stunned.
"If there is a different Tao, there will be no conspiracy." The evil spirit is completely opposite to the righteousness of the Wen Sage. They are incompatible with each other. How can the "evil spirit" who kills wantonly and cruelly on the battlefield have the aura of the Wen Sage in his body? What is going on?
"My disciple who carries the Tao of Literature. I know you have many doubts in your heart. However, I don't have much time, so I can't explain it to you one by one. It's up to you to understand everything by yourself."
The rumbling voice sounded in Yang Ji's mind, and the next moment, as if an earth-shattering thunder struck from the clouds, Yang Ji suddenly connected to a powerful, ancient and magnificent consciousness.
This ancient and magnificent consciousness opened the "door" directly to Yang Ji without any cover.
"boom!"
The world was spinning, and Yang Ji was not ready yet. The next moment, endless memories came flooding back...
"Boom!"
The waves were turbulent, lapping against the dotted rocks, making a rumbling sound. The bright moon hung high, and under the dark night sky, a towering, distant blue figure stood anxiously on the rocks, looking at the sky, and suddenly let out a deep sigh.
"Master, can you tell me so that I can help you relieve your worries?"
Behind him, a rustling voice asked respectfully.
All he answered was a long sigh...
"Is that young voice his?"
Yang Ji thought:
"That old man is sighing. What is he sighing for?"
Before Yang Ji could understand it, in the blink of an eye, the sky was spinning, and darkness came again.
…………
"Squeak!"
Two purple wooden doors opened in front of them, and an old man stepped over the threshold and walked out with a tired face.
Master!
Seeing the thorny white hair all over his head, Yang Ji felt a sudden pain in his heart. Master had been locked in there for only three days, and his hair turned white!
Master is a literary saint!
…
"Master, what happened? Why don't you sue me?"
a voice shouted.
What responded to him was a figure sighing and leaving.
For a moment, Yang Ji's heart was filled with pain and self-blame. A drop of liquid fell on his hand, and Yang Ji realized that he had burst into tears at some point.
"What's going on? Why am I crying all of a sudden?"
Yang Ji suddenly woke up. In a blink of an eye, he suddenly understood:
"That's 'his' memory. What I feel is his feeling."
His vision dimmed, and Yang Ji fell into darkness again.
…………
The scenes in front of him were constantly changing. Yang Ji saw him working hard to improve himself; saw him burning the midnight oil to read; saw him suddenly having an epiphany and becoming so literary; he also saw him being named on the gold medal list...
"It turns out that he actually passed the exam!"
…
Crack!
The sound of candlelight.
As his eyes gradually brightened, Yang Ji saw the old man again. He was sitting on a big purple chair above the hall with a serious look on his face, with two burning red candles on both sides.
There was a heavy feeling in the hall.
An invisible pressure hit his face, and Yang Ji felt as if he was facing the most important decision in his life, and even his breathing stopped.
"...Have you really decided?"
The old man's voice came from above. His hair was pale, his face was withered, and he was much older than before. He looked almost the same as an ordinary old man.
"Once this matter is decided, it will be doomed. There will never be any turning back."
The old man's voice was the same as before, but Yang Ji could hear a trace of deep sadness.
"Yes, Master! This is my decision."
The voice said, as if he was kneeling under the hall. His voice was no longer as young as before, but it still showed the same determination as before.
"Then get up."
The old man looked at the audience with a look of compassion.
"Master, is there really no way to change it?"
The voice seemed to have raised its head and looked at the hall with a sad face.
There was dead silence in the lobby.
Yang Ji found that the memory this time seemed to be particularly long.
"there is none left."
The old man said with a sad look on his face, his eyes looking at Liang Lin above, but his thoughts were not here at all:
"But when the sun rises, it sets, and when trees flourish, they wither. The cycle of life and death, and the disillusionment of life, are inevitable. But this time, what will be disillusioned will be our cultural heritage that has been passed down for countless epochs..."
"Cang Jie coined the characters, Fu Xi established the text..., the universe was destroyed one by one, and now it is the fourth one. From then on, literature declined, rituals collapsed, and music collapsed, and we only knew that there was martial arts but no knowledge of them.
Wen, all things attack each other, they only know how to kill but not the ethics, humility..."
…
"...I and the other Hundred Saints have decided. We will burn our lives, exhaust our cultural energy, and hide the 'Large River of Power' to be passed down to generations of spring and autumn, and be passed down for hundreds of generations! When the great catastrophe passes, all things will be destroyed. In the new world, the literary world
Whether it can be passed on again depends on you."
The old man's voice was soft, revealing a kind of indifference about life and death:
To be continued...