"The pen falls and shocks the wind and rain, and the writing turns into tears and ghosts and gods."

Fang Zhongyong heard something undesirable. The words of the man in white in front of him seemed to open up his new world, his tender face and eyes were full of yearning.

Clenched his fists, his expression became a little nervous, and he felt that he would see an incredible scene.

Seeing his son's solemn expression on his face, Fang's father frowned frequently. He had never seen Zhongyong give such eager eyes to a person.

I looked up at the boy in white and didn't believe that I could play any tricks at such an age.

"Brother."

Li Ming stretched out his hand.

A black brush flew out of the pavilion and landed in his hands. This action alone scared Fang's father and Fang Zhongyong.

I saw that he was full of momentum and his white feathered clothes slowly flew, just like an immortal who was in the mortal world.

"Zhongyong, please be optimistic. What is the difference between the same poem in your hands and mine."

Li Ming received nine years of compulsory education, and now he is at the 46th level of immortal cultivation and Qi training. The combination of the two will definitely be able to reduce the dimensions of Fang Zhongyong and Fang’s father.

Of course, he could not write poetry and books, but he knew many domineering poems and sentences, and it didn't matter even if Fang Zhongyong knew it, because the most important thing was the special effects shock.

The same poems and sentences are reflected in different ways in your own hands, and they can better show that he is a saint.

Whether the character of the saint can be stabilized depends on whether the special effects this time can be added enough.

As long as the special effects are strong enough, even gods can fool them.

He has this confidence.

"Read the poem you created just now." Li Ming said expressionlessly, "I want your poem to come alive and let you know the supreme realm of a saint."

Fang Zhongyong was a little puzzled and didn't understand why, but he still said: "Peach blossoms and butterflies are growing on the shore, and the fog in the sky is painted with clouds."

Then I saw Li Ming holding a brush. The brush clearly had no ink, but could write in the air, just like splashing ink. The font pen was like a dragon and a snake, and the phoenix flew and a phoenix.

Pen to fall.

The font slowly drifted with the wind, and soon, a picture appeared in the air: peach blossoms were on the river bank, colorful butterflies formed waves and flew among the flowers, and there were towers in the air in front of them, as if they were in a sea of ​​fog.

Fang Zhongyong saliva, his little eyes full of surprise. Could this be what he called the realm of a saint?

Fang's father was even more surprised, because Fang Zhongyong just spoke a sentence, and Li Ming started writing. As the pen fell, the font dissipated and the picture formed.

"Continue." Li Ming looked at Fang Zhongyong.

"It must be that there is something wrong with your pen."

Fang's father still didn't give up and reached out to take the pen in Li Ming's hand to check it, but he didn't see any ink. Then he wrote random words in the air, and nothing appeared in the air.

"The pen is not the most important person, the key is the person who is using it." Li Ming looked at him.

"I..." Fang's father stammered and stopped talking, and his heart began to shake.

"Is this the realm of a saint?" Fang Zhongyong opened his eyes wide. The same thing can only be used to describe artistic conception in his own hands, but in the hands of a saint, he can give back in the form of a picture.

"Far from it, the real saint is..." Li Ming said, waved his hands, his white robe fluttered, his black hair flew, and he roared: "The water of the river comes from the sky."

With a wave of his hands, the picture in front of him suddenly changed, and the waterfall in the distance flowed backwards, forming a big river in front of him.

"It's the real saint..." Li Ming continued, "The rocks penetrate the sky, the waves slam the shore, and thousands of snow are rolled up."

As Li Ming finished speaking, the river in front of him could not calm down. There were rocks stirring in the river water. The waves gradually became turbulent, like wild beasts roaring and constantly rolling.

"The real saint is... a bolt from the blue, black clouds are pressing against the city and the armor light opens to the sun and golden scales."

Li Ming's voice came out again. The blue sky was originally cloudless, but as his words fell, thunder appeared in the sky, and soon endless black clouds appeared in the sky.

Black clouds enveloped the sky and the earth, and the strong wind roared, as if they wanted to shine everything. Suddenly, golden light burst out and pierced the sky. The heavenly soldiers and generals were in the sky, like guarding the sky gate.

"The real saint is... the great roc rises with the wind one day, soaring up to 90,000 miles."

Before Fang's father and Fang Zhongyong came back from the shock, they saw Li Ming spread his hands and leaning forward. Then the wind stormed, and he turned into a Kunpeng and soared into the sky.

The big bird covering the sky casts a large shadow, spreading its wings and soaring upwards, trying to compete with the God of Heaven.

But in the blink of an eye, he did not see Li Ming turning into a big roc, but stood in front of them, like a god, with his body becoming extremely tall.

Just like a mountain, Fang's father and Fang Zhongyong could not breathe.

But he hasn't stopped yet.

"The real saint is... I smiled at the sky with my own sword, and I will stay with my liver and gallbladder."

After his words fell heavily, Fang Zhongyong and Fang's father immediately saw the amazing scene. Li Ming's figure became extremely tall, hundreds of feet tall, holding a hatchet in his hand and slashed towards the sky.

Like a god, the aura of destroying the world is constantly erupting.

"The real saint is...the barking of dogs in the woods, and the person returning home on a snowy night."

As soon as Li Ming said, the world changed drastically again. The cold wind blew and the wind and snow fell. Fang Zhongyong and Fang's father exhaled heavy white breath, and less frost appeared on their eyebrows.

They were trembling with cold, kept venting and rubbing their hands.

The big black dog was trembling with fear, roaring constantly, shaking its tail, grinning, just in response to the words "When the dog barking in the woods," he said.

Before they could adapt to the cold, the environment suddenly changed drastically and another sentence came out.

"The real saint is...we are not things in the pond, but will turn into dragons when we encounter wind and clouds."

Immediately afterwards, the dragon roar of "roar roar roar..." sounded, and Li Ming turned into a golden dragon, with his scales flashing with a dazzling luster and directly soaring.

dragon.

Auspicious things are ancient totems, and they are the highest-level beliefs no matter where they are.

Father Fang had never seen a saint, but he knew what the dragon looked like, and his legs were slightly weak. Suddenly, the flying dragon rushed directly to his eyes, and opened his mouth as if he was swallowing him.

He was so shocked that he "plopped" that he knelt directly on the ground.

But at this time, I found that there was no dragon coming to heaven and earth here, there was only a boy with his back facing them, and the boy was full of amazing luster.

"saint!"

Fang's father trembled all over, swallowed his saliva, and was shocked. His knees gradually became weak. He knelt on the ground, pulling Fang Zhongyong, a prodigy who was still standing next to him in a daze.

Fang Zhongyong came back to his senses and slowly knelt down with his father.

Kneeling behind Li Ming.

They kowtowed three times and spoke tremblingly.
Chapter completed!