Chapter 400 The Compassionate Monk Dad is Obsessed 19

I don’t know how many times he was tortured. In his dazed years, Mr. Yan only remembered that he was making incense sticks and using magic to make his vines bloom.

He really couldn't stand it anymore.

There was also a troupe of little demon troupes invited nearby, and they would not be happy if they did not sing the wooden dragon.

Enduring the babble and the strong wind and thunderstorm, Mr. Yan made a magic weapon. Its main function is to sleep.

After a long, long time, I don't know how much time passed. The big tree leaning next to it turned into grass.

There was grass under my feet and I stretched out. "I slept so comfortably."

Mr. Yan was stunned for a while, "Yes, feel comfortable and satisfied with our service." He slapped him in the face and cursed, "It's windy and rainy, and you're still singing a little tune. You can't live with it."

It’s moisturizing!”

"Really?" Fuchen asked sharply, "What can I do to you with a piece of grass? Holding it in the palm of your hand and spitting on it can drown me." Fuchen spurned Mr. Yan for complaining about all the big things.

"Bah." Mr. Yan was so angry that his lungs hurt.

"Hahahaha, monk, eh?" Fuchen was about to shout twice when he found a small seedling hidden in his roots.

"What is this? Are there any flowers that want to parasitize me?" Fuchen was confused.

"Ha." Mr. Yan has lost his good temper for a long time. These days, he has had enough women to serve this demon king instead of taking care of him! Good temper is only for his own Feifei!

"That's the flower branch I gave you to dress you up. I wish you will bloom and bear fruit soon." Mr. Yan said nonsensically.

Fuchen looked down upon him, "What do you think a piece of grass can bear? Do you want me to bear my flowers?"

Mr. Yan turned around. He was too lazy to serve this guy. It was annoying to see him.

Fuchen climbed up to the monk's shoulders, stretched his waist, and recalled his sleep this time. He said with emotion, "The feng shui here is so good, I feel comfortable sleeping. I'll come back next time."

"Go away! Don't come here! Don't come here again in this life!" "Slave" Yan yelled.

The monk asked Master Yan, "Master, that mountain behind..." The mountain was almost flattened. There really was no need to repair it.

"Never mind." Mr. Yan was determined not to look back.

It hurts to look back. It hurts.

I have been in the mountains for two months.

Fuchen still felt that he had just slept for a day, looking around and asking, "The ghost is here again? Why is the mountain flat?"

The monk was calm and had no intention of telling Fuchen about this matter.

It is important to maintain your mentality.

It was already night when the two of them went down the mountain. When they reached the bottom of the mountain, they heard someone shouting, "Holy Monk, stay here, Holy Monk, stay here!"

He was an old man with a very strong body, walking quickly with a cane and a long white beard, and he was very well-dressed.

The monk stood still and waited.

The old man approached and was not in a hurry to greet him. Instead, he straightened up his appearance before bowing respectfully. He greeted warmly, "Holy Monk."

The monk put his hands together and returned the salute, "Amitabha, the donor has something to ask of this poor monk?"

The old man was stunned for a moment. He didn't expect the holy monk to be so direct. He quickly laughed and said, "The holy monk has good eyesight, but the poor monk has something to ask for."

"I wonder if this poor monk can give me a string of Bodhi seeds?" The old man also asked directly.

Bodhisattva?

Fuchen looked at the monk, "Is it delicious? I never knew."

The monk shook his head and said, "Donor, a poor monk cannot give you a Bodhi seed."

"Why?" The old man was shocked. He immediately straightened his face and introduced himself, "I am a young but talented man, but he is also a good man of the eighth generation, a good man bestowed by the late emperor. Why can't I ask for a bodhisattva?"

"Yeah, why not?" Fuchen asked.

"Amitabha, does the donor know if you still have any blessings?" the monk asked calmly.

The old man looked away and muttered, "It should be possible."

The monk shook his head and said, "Not a cent, and it is also stained with karma. If the donor is really a good person for eight generations, I think he is the ancestor of the person who sold people to live in coffins for money."

"Ancestor? Then he is dead? Is he a ghost?" Fuchen whispered sharply, and immediately became energetic. He stepped forward and shouted, "Catch! Monster! Where can you escape!"

The monk stretched out his hand, grabbed the grass in the air, let her do whatever she wanted in his palm, and said calmly to the old man, "I'm sorry."

The old man didn't expect his identity to be revealed so quickly. He shook his head and sighed, "You are right, that is my unscrupulous descendant who has done such wicked things. However, I tried my best to make up for his wickedness."

The monk shook his head.

"He..." The old man's eyes were searching, and suddenly his expression dropped, "What a sin. I thought he could survive."

"The night before you came, some people came to stay in the little old coffin for a night, but I have exhausted my merits. Unfortunately, my good Feng Shui and Fengshui land was eroded into a mourning place, and the people who went there had no shelter. It was more unusual than usual

It is easier to lose his life. I have no way to save him, so I can only entrust him with some money and let him go to the Taoist monks for help. I thought there was still a glimmer of life, but I didn't expect that I ended up harming him." The old man's expression was very sad, and his head was drooping.

With.

"You have more than these karmas. How many others have you carried? Did the donor bear the karma for your descendants?" The monk continued to ask. He was also a little surprised. How did a good man in eight lifetimes become a bad guy with heinous crimes?

"The old man worked hard to do good, not for the common people, but only for the prosperity of future generations." The old man cried, "So when I left, I also told my descendants that if they are in trouble, they can ask the old man for help. My grandson knew this and had a wrong idea.

.I thought I was saving people, so I didn’t say anything. The grandson’s trouble was caused by the little old man, so naturally he will be the one to bear it, so it doesn’t matter.”

"You will go to the Eighteen Purgatory." The monk reminded.

"So what?" His tone was very calm.

The monk stopped talking.

Blessing was originally the last straw, but it was transformed into power and wealth by the grandson.

What was originally just taking care of one or two things turned into changing the fate of life and death, and this thing itself will go astray to an immeasurable extent.

How many things are hidden behind it will remain unknown.

The dust in the palm of my hand had stopped making noise for a long time. At this time, I sat on my palm and reminded the old man, "Don't say it's too full. If you haven't experienced hell now, you will naturally think that you can survive it. When you experience it, you will cry and regret it."

"

The old man smiled and did not take Fuchen's words at ease.

"Since the holy monk can't give the young man what he asked for, then the young man will leave." The old man was still respectful.

"Amitabha, the poor monk will be saved by the donor." The monk put his hands together and saluted.

"Haha." The old man smiled, turned and left, disappearing in the mist.

In front of a certain mansion, an old man knelt on the ground and said, "Sir."

"Have you thought about it?" Mr. Yan asked with his hands behind his hands.

"Think about it." The old man's voice was surprisingly calm.

Mr. Yan nodded and raised his hand. His long sleeves were raised and there was a pig on the ground...

As soon as they returned to Haimen Village, the monk and others were surrounded. People dressed in official attire and holding knives surrounded them.

The dusty blades of grass immediately exploded, preparing for war.

"Are they the Holy Monk and Ling Cao?" a eunuch came out and asked.

The holy monk? Lingcao? is here to ask for help.

Fuchen turned to look at the monk. The grass on his body gradually softened and shrank back to the size of a finger.

"Amitabha, if the donor is looking for a monk and spiritual herbs, he is a poor monk, but a poor monk is not a holy monk." The monk said.

"That's it." The father-in-law said happily, "Holy monk, the emperor has invited you, when do you think you will enter the palace?"

The monk looked at Fuchen beside him.

Fuchen looked at the monk.

The two looked at each other.

She can do whatever she wants, and let the monk make the decision.

The monk saw that Xiaocao Caoye was motionless and knew that Fuchen had no idea. (She moved directly when she had an idea, no one needed to guess.)

The monk thought for a moment and said, "Amitabha, there happens to be nothing going on here, so it doesn't hurt to leave now."

"Hey, I've been waiting for you to say this." The father-in-law laughed.

Everyone was invited into the carriage.

A team of a hundred people set off with the carriage. The monk and Fuchen cried and watched the scenery, which was quite comfortable.

Surprisingly, it is only two days away from the imperial city.

Along the way, my father-in-law kept introducing the food, history, and scenery to the monk and Fuchen. He always had a smile on his face and tried his best to please the two of them.

The floating dust feels very comfortable.

We took a carriage to the capital on the second night.
To be continued...