I don't know whether it was intentional or not, but most of the ink-colored poison fell into the canal that ran through the entire city of Chang'an, and the various tributaries of the canal connected to the doors of thousands of households in Chang'an City.
This poison spreads very fast. If the devil is seeking life, it comes into contact with more than 20% of the people of Chang'an City in almost an instant. It penetrates through the skin, takes away their consciousness, and turns them into something similar to the living dead.
thing.
"Click." The big red lantern hanging in the shop shook, the light flickered on and off for a while, and then fell down.
The flames fluttered, burning through the paper used to paste the lantern. The flames spread out on the red paper and burned onto the bamboo bones supporting the lantern. Before the entire lantern was fully burned, it was crushed to pieces by big feet, killing the crowd.
Afterwards, the flame twisted for a moment, as if struggling, and then extinguished instantly.
These living dead, with their limbs twisted, flooded into the streets like a tide, and began to attack the normal people next to them.
In more than ten breaths, a plague of the living dead spread in Chang'an City. As King Pingtian said, Chang'an City was already in chaos.
The previous three battles in Chang'an City were deliberately controlled and did not affect the people of Chang'an, so they were not considered chaos.
Only when all the people in Chang'an are in chaos, can Chang'an City be truly in chaos. And there are tens of millions of people in Chang'an. No matter how powerful he is, how many people can he kill under the entanglement of Shengyan Cultivator?
?
Therefore, King Pingtian chose the most lethal method for ordinary people, plague.
The plague of the living dead caused by corpse poison, as long as one person in the room is poisoned, all the people in the room will be poisoned. In this case, the entire Chang'an will turn into a dead city in half a day at most.
Waves of tearing sounds were heard in Chang'an City, followed by the sound of houses being torn down, and fires lit up one after another in Chang'an City, which were cities that were set on fire.
Fires are always accompanied by chaos, and chaos is made even more chaotic by uncontrolled flames.
The plague of the living dead is like a quagmire, slowly pulling the entire city of Chang'an towards death. At this time, Chang'an is like a person who is sick to the bone, knowing that he is going to die, but there is nothing he can do.
"Hahaha." King Pingtian stood in the sky, as if admiring his own masterpiece. The chaos in Chang'an City was caused by him. Since the demise of the previous dynasty, King Pingtian has never been happier than now.
Just at this time.
"Great Merciful and Great Compassion, Amitabha." On the Mingyue Tower, a monk stood up, holding a nine-ring tin staff.
Spiritual rain fell from the sky, not just Mingyue Tower. A spiritual rain enveloped Chang'an. It was fluttering. The living dead people on Chang'an Street stopped and looked up at the sky, falling into a daze. The fire in the square also slowly extinguished.
.
Abbot Qingxu of Dabei Temple took action, and his method was exactly the same as the Great Merciful and Compassionate Way to overcome adversity. However, his complexion was slowly turning green, which was a sign of poisoning.
Qingxu used his great kindness and compassion to overcome the calamity, transferring the poison from the living dead and the entire city of Chang'an to his own body.
A mouthful of black blood spat out and fell on the cassock of Abbot Qingxu. With a little touch of the nine-ringed tin staff, the spiritual rain did not stop, dispersing all the corpse poison in Chang'an City.
The infected people began to fall asleep.
"Good." Seeing that the people of Chang'an were worry-free, Abbot Qingxu walked back to the Mingyue Tower. His face turned from green to ink, and then his whole body was ignited with Buddhist flames to purify the poison.
As the Buddha's flame burned, there was also the body of Abbot Qingxu. A spiritual rain saved Chang'an City from the plague of the living dead. A handful of Buddha's flame burned away the corpse poison that harmed both himself and all living things.
The face of Abbot Qingxu in the flame was peaceful, even with a faint smile.
This corpse poison is very overbearing and has never been seen before in the Tang Dynasty. This means that King Pingtian has accumulated it for thousands of years. After this time, King Pingtian will never be able to use such poison again.
In other words, the people of Tang Dynasty will never be affected by this poison again.
He can make this poison die with him, so Abbot Qingxu is very satisfied.
"Monk, I'm leaving!" Qingxu took one last look at the city of Chang'an he was familiar with.
At the top of Mingyue Tower, there is a monk sitting there.
Downstairs in Mingyue, Chen Qingshan lowered his head, A Nan lowered his head, and all the sober people in Chang'an City lowered their heads. A sense of sadness filled Chang'an in an instant.
It is obviously the New Year, a day that is supposed to be joyful, but why do so many people die?
A long river of angry sword energy struck out, leaving a scar on King Pingtian's armor, and Liao Fan came out with his sword.
"Perhaps, you really deserve to die." Liao Fan said seriously, and there was real anger in Wu Bo's eyes. Qingxu and Liao Fan had no intersection, but this did not affect Fan's admiration for Qingxu.
Qingxu died because of King Pingtian, which made Fan very unhappy.
The sword energy is accumulated in the chest. When it is uneven, spit it out quickly.
The pavilions, terraces and pavilions, the Chang'an moon appeared, were contained in one sword, and Liao Fan used the Mingyue West Tower. This sword move, Bai Fuzi of Jishui Town said, it has the power of the Eight Realms.
"Come on!" King Pingtian finally paid attention. Qingyang appeared in his hand and he fisted it. King Pingtian was a martial artist. Even if his immortal body collapsed, his most powerful support was his own body.
Liao Fan was angry, and the sword he held out was already at full strength. Based on his cultivation and knowledge of swordsmanship, this sword might be called the strongest sword in the world.
The two of them passed by each other.
"What?!" There was a sound of surprise, and in the eyes of King Pingtian in disbelief, the Qingyang in King Pingtian's fist was broken, and there was a wound more than a foot above the arm where the fist was clenched, and the bone was deeply visible. The sharp sword intent on the wound was heading towards
Pingtian Wang's body was drilled out.
King Pingtian discovered that with his own cultivation, he could not remove the sword intent from his body. This monk's sword was even stronger than he imagined.
"You have once again refreshed my understanding of you, but how many swords can you swing with the sword style just now?" King Pingtian found that Fan's sword intent could not be removed for the time being, so he simply stopped caring about it.
"Hmm! Monk?" These words came out of King Pingtian's mouth coldly, as if there was no emotion.
Master Liaofan recited a Buddha's name and replied: "I don't know how many swords I can swing."
Without resting his hand, he swung out one sword after another, like a storm, and each sword was like a bright moon on the west tower.
The sword light directly overwhelmed King Pingtian.
"This is?!" The head of the Shengyan Academy was startled, and he felt shock in his heart. It came from Monk Liaofan. It was an ordinary iron sword, but the sword's intent was shocking.
The city-wide swords of Chang'an began to tremble with the sword in Fan's hand.
"The first eight-level sword cultivator in this world is about to appear. This is the first eight-level sword cultivator in the world called the Tang Dynasty." Tian Dikuan's voice sounded in Chen Qingshan's ears.
"Eighth Realm Sword Cultivator, Master Liaofan!" Chen Qingshan looked at the sky with excitement on his face.
Every time Liao Fan in the sky swung a sword, the sword intention on his body became stronger, and his essence, energy and spirit merged into one. Liao Fan's whole body exuded sharpness, which meant that no one should look at him.
The first real eight-level sword cultivator in the Tang Dynasty was born. He was not as magnificent as people thought, he was just a monk trapped in his heart. Today, he is the dead abbot Qingxu and Chang'an.
Thousands of sentient beings in the city waved their swords in anger.
Tens of thousands of feet of sword intent spurted out, and Liao Fan's aura reached its peak, breaking away from the shackles.
The trace of immortal energy given by Chen Qingshan was taken out and blended into his palm to stabilize his cultivation.
A calamity cloud appeared, but it was cut through with a sword.
King Ping Tian broke out from the sword rain, but what he saw was Liao Fan, who was as broken as eight realms, and his expression changed drastically.
"I can't kill you in the Seventh Realm, what about the Eighth Realm?" Liao Fan said flatly, holding up his sword. The Eighth Realm swordsman is the best in the world in terms of attack.
As he spoke, Liao Fan handed over his sword.
A mediocre sword light, if returned to its original nature, could cut off King Pingtian's arm with just one sword.
A guy who has been sleeping in a tomb for thousands of years will no longer be a match for the Eight Realms.
When it gets dark, I use my sword to shoot out an eternal light.