Chu nightning knew that he had no choice. He finally put on a thick fox cloak, propped up a paper umbrella and went to the Wushan Hall.

In the hall, the wrong silver and bronze lamps ignited the brilliance, and the ninety-nine lights were as dark as the galaxy, and the entire Wushan Temple was brilliant. It’s commonplace for the accomplices on both sides to accompany the sect of Chu Zong. When he comes in, he is coveted. Chu night Ning no expression through the side of the veranda, go to the back hall to rest - before the lacquer Zhumen, he reached out and pushed the threshold.

The house is very warm, unlike the cold rain outside the river, and there is a fragrant wine. The ink burned lazily on the couch, and the white jade fingers held the red mud pot and were drinking.

"You came."

"..."

"sit."

Chu Xiening went to the bamboo seat farthest from him, sat down and stared.

The ink did not force him to approach, he was already drunk, and his pale face was covered with thin red. He squinted his eyes, and there were some s.h.i.+mmering brilliance in the black-to-purple eyes. I was bored again, and the ink burned up and looked at the top beam of the carved dragon, and the finger tapped on the knee.

He suddenly asked: "Is it still a hand?"

Chu nightning's eyelashes moved slightly, but he still said: "No."

Some of the ink burns: "You did it. That year... the year he left."

"I can't do it well." Chu Xiaoning didn't have much look on his face. "You said it's good. It's a good effect."

The ink burned and narrowed his eyes: "Are you in this book?"

"No."

"So if this seat is now letting you do one?"

Chu night, Ning did not speak, and his eyes burned with enthusiasm, glaring at him: "Ask you. If you want to do one now, you still want to."

"Even if I did." Chu nightning finally opened his eyes and looked at him coldly. "Will you eat?"

I didn’t expect to be defeated by an army. When the ink burned on the cheeks, it floated a layer of blood. It seemed to be a surge of alcohol, and it seemed to be anger. In short, the emotion in his eyes suddenly became very stunned, and it took a while to react. He then gnashed his teeth and violently slammed the wine cellar before the case, and the fine pears were spilled over the ground.

The ink burned in the shadows and stood like a mountain. He walked through the broken pottery and strode to the front of the night, and grabbed the clothes.

"You are good, Song Qiutong is also good." Stepping Xianjun gnashed his teeth, "You, all have to find the seat to be not happy."

He let go of the late night, like a eagle, squatting in the same place, walking back and forth -

Suddenly, the pace stopped.

He turned his head and looked at the night, and asked: "When did you teach me to read this letter?"

Stepping Xianjun has been drunk half-time at this moment, and he has no reason to talk at all. He wants to talk about where to talk.

"I don't remember anything at all."

The wrist was caught by a cold hand, and the ink burned him and took him to the book. Spread the paper and spread a pile of books. Ink burning: "Write it to me. Teach me again."

Chu night Ning had a low-grade fever, and he was forced to do so. Under the anger, he became more and more depressed, and his face was coughing up.

The ink burned the pen into his hand, saying gloomy and gloomy: "Write."

Impatience urged: "Quicker."

Chu Lingning’s spiritual core has been broken in the previous mentoring confrontation, and the body has always been bad, so coughing and coughing, there is **** blood in the throat -

The ink burned, and he stared at the little blood on the star, then slowly loosened his hand.

"It’s just that the letter is cold, and what can be said." Finally, Chu nightning stopped coughing, he sighed and took the pip to wipe the blood off his lips.

He raised his eyes, sighed and looked at the ink: "Every letter of the past, you will write this beginning. But you may not have been writing for too long, so I forgot."

"I... write a letter?" The black-painted scorpion stared at him. "Who is it for?" He was almost angry: "Who do I write to? Who can I write to in this world? Hu Composing and messing up... arranging and messing up... a nonsense!"

When the ink burned these words, it was awkward and mournful, and the eyes were full of fascination.

At that time, Chu Xiening was vaguely feeling that there was something wrong there. But he didn't think much at that time, only when the ink burned was drunk, and his memory was not good. So I only frowned and didn't answer.

In the study room of Wushan Temple, there are letters, and all the letters of the dead and the dead will be locked in a Qiankun 歸檔 file. The ink burns like a trapped beast in a cage. After a few rounds of thinking about the existence of the letter, the dusty scorpion is taken out and the letter of one long and one long is taken apart.

Those letters were written by disciples who were sent by the disciples, and they were cla.s.sified according to the elders of the division. Most of the people who wrote letters had died in the year of the rebellious rebellion. Among them, the elders of Yuheng are the least disciples, only three, and it is especially convenient to find. The ink burned quickly and turned to a thick letter.

He s.h.i.+vered and disa.s.sembled.

It is his handwriting that is good, tender and skewed, but he is extremely serious. A seal looks at the past, and every letter says, "See the letter as a meeting, and show your letter."

Every one has it.

The ink-burning fingers are shaking, and the eyes are s.h.i.+ning with strange colors.

——

"A Niang, see the letter as a meeting, the exhibition letter Shu Yan."

"My sister, see the letter, the exhibition letter Shu Yan."

Those long-standing names are shuddering and make him jealous. His c.o.c.kroaches were narrow and small, and the clouds overwhelmed him in his face.

Chu night was standing next to him, and he still didn't care at first, but the more he came back, the more he looked like him. He couldn't help but lock his eyes in front of the desk, and the old man turned his old letters and manners. A man who is crazy.

A small horror sticks out the sharpness and slams the atrium of Chu.

What is wrong.

He walked slowly and watched the ink burned in the letter, but it was crazy.

... Where is it wrong?

"My mother is dead..." Suddenly, the ink snorted and opened his eyes and looked at Chu Ningning. "Why would I write to her?"

Chu nightning looked at him every move, the horror was smas.h.i.+ng in his heart, as if there was any stormy darkness coming out of the sh.e.l.l.

The clouds have come to the world.

It is strange to forget the words "seeing the letter as a meeting" and writing many times, but it is not impossible.

But forgetting so many letters I have written, I have no impression at all. This is too much.

The ink burned still looked at one by one: "Exhibition letter Shu Yan... Exhibition letter Shu Yan..." The gloss that s.h.i.+nes in the black and purple enamel is so painful, so contradictory.

It seems that there is a missing piece of important memory.

The ear seemed to hear the sound of the hard sh.e.l.l breaking.

Chu nightning condensed in breathing, the spine was almost numb. In addition to the two of them, there is no other person in the study. In this piece of silence, Chu night moved his lips and then whispered: "You don't remember? You said that although your mother could not receive the letter, but You still want to write to her."

The ink slammed up.

Chu nightning only felt that his blood was cool and cold, and he became angry.

"The first name you learned to write is not your own name."

The ink burned and whispered: "What is that?"

"The first name you asked me to teach you is Aunt."

The outside of the electric lightning thunder, the wind screamed fiercely, as if countless ghost claws slammed on the window, shaking the window paper slamming.

A flash of lightning fell, and the human world was s.h.i.+ning.

Stepping on the emperor, I muttered: "...is you teaching me?...why don’t have any impressions...nothing at all."

The wind blows down the woods, the shadows are shaking, and the ghosts and spirits of the mountains are full.

Chu Evening’s face was white, and he stared at the ink, and he looked like an eagle: “You don’t remember?”

The heart is like a drum.

A few silences, answering him, is a smoldering almost inconsequentially asking: "What do you remember?"

Drum stop.

The tiny fears finally smashed the outer sh.e.l.l, and the horrible rush of the earth rushed and swept toward the only awake person in the house.

Chu nightning's scalp is numb - he does not remember? How could you not remember? !

At the beginning, the ink burned to write a letter to the mother, and wrote more than three hundred copies, saying that it was necessary to make up a thousand seals. Then, when the Bon festival was held, it was burned and burned with the mother of the land...

More than three hundred letters, how could it be easy to forget!

His lips s.h.i.+vered a little, and suddenly there was an extremely terrible conjecture. Chu night Ning mute: "You... can't remember the first time you saw the sky, what did you say?"

"What have I said?" The ink ignited, "How long has it been, how can I still remember it."

"You said that you also want such a G.o.d." Chu said, "You want to have a day to ask..."

The drunk man asked him, and his eyes revealed a sarcasm: "I want to ask what to do? Is it killing or interrogation?"

Chu night Ning whispered: "Hey."

When the red lotus water was smashed, the young boy was tender and green, and he smiled and held a paper umbrella and said to him: "You can save it."

But at this moment, stepping on the emperor's scorpion, like a wolf-like scorpion, is incomprehensible: "What?"

Outside the sky thunder broke, purple electricity night.

The bang of the rumble.

Chu night, licking his lips, the brown eyelids s.h.i.+vered slightly.

The chill of the cheekbones.

That night, the smoldering did not actually do anything to Chu. He really drunk a bit, and later he was holding those letters in a daze.

Later, the ink burned asleep before the case, and he was still muttering while he was asleep: "What?? Nothing..."

Suddenly, the wind blows open the window, and a bang sounds. The mountain wind is mixed with heavy rain, and the lights are extinguished by the window.

The house was dimmed.

Chu night Ning stood beside the ink burning, lips and teeth cold, looked down at this sleeping man. The uncertain thoughts in the brain are becoming clearer and clearer – why can't you remember these scattered pasts? Why did you selectively forget some pure past?

Is it because I am drunk? Because of coincidence? Or... Who deliberately erased the good thoughts in his heart?

Stepping on the table, Shen Xianjun whispered softly: "Cold..."

The blood of Chu Xiaoning was cool, and the whole person was numb. Hearing the coldness of the ink, he instinctively walked slowly to the window.

Raise your hand and close the window, blocking the wind and rain outside.

After doing this, Chu Xiening did not go, he slammed his forehead against the Xuan window with the deer pattern, and the knuckles were white jade.

After a while, he slowly took out a crumpled charm from the placket.

Shenglong Fu.

He has no psychic nucleus, and the smoldering feels that he can no longer use any spells, so those who have been used by Chu’s birthday, he is too lazy to take away.

In fact, it is not wrong to burn this ink. Chu nighting bites the tip of his finger and drops more than ten drops of blood. Almost all of them have pa.s.sed through the dragon's paper, and the little dragon on the top floated out of sloppiness.

It was full of weak light, and looked up at the airlessly: "Ah... Chu nightning... I haven't seen it for a long time..."

Xiaolong Li was somewhat unstable, and the dragon paw took a few steps on the paper, and then slammed back to the paper. It has some grievances and some sorrows: "Why have you not been looking for this seat for so long? Why do you only give this seat a little aura... Hey, it’s really aura... Even the spiritual power is not... What happened to you? ?"

"Speaking long, still don't say it." Chu night Ning gently caught it and put it on the palm of his hand, "Please, help me a favor."

"There is nothing to do with the clock, nothing to do with Xia Yingchun." Xiaolong sighed, but its power is closely related to Chu Xi Ning, so it didn't even have much strength to complain, and he said, "You say, this. What do you want to do for this seat?"

Chu nightning took it and placed it on the side of the sleeping ear.

Fingering into a fist, not into the palm. Chu Xiaoning’s face, which was difficult to see, looked paler and paler: “Try to try it and see if there is any curse that should not be there.”

In fact, at that time, the boy who was brilliant and docile, and even the c.o.c.kroaches were reluctant to kill, eventually became a devil.

As a teacher, how can he have no suspicion?

Watching the apprentice kill Xue Zhengyi, Mrs. w.a.n.g, killing Jiang Yan, and forgetting the leaves.

Tulu has been exhausted.

Stepped on the bones.

He looked at the smoldering and killing, watching the ink burned with blood in his hands, his face was full of blood, standing in the dead heap and smirking at himself.

He was distressed, why didn’t he feel weird?

The original burning is not such a person.

But when the little paper dragon tried his best, when Chu Xinning struggling to paint a shape of a spell on the paper, despite the preparation, Chu nightning was shocked.

Love is awkward.

What is the love of the burning body? ! !

After Xiaolong finished the spell, he lost his last strength. It turned into a blue smoke and disappeared into the dragon. Chu nightning is attached to the thin piece of paper, and the skull seems to have cracked mountains and stones.

However, after reluctantly calming down and repeatedly watching it many times, Chu Ningning found that the image of this love is wrong -

It turned out to be upside down.