The wind was howling, sand and stones flew. Listening to the movement outside the house like a ghost crying, Varlachi, who had just woken up from his sleep, helped pull the sheepskin coat that had fallen to the ground. The fire pit in the house had already been extinguished, and he was awakened by the cold.

He hid in this stone house for a while.

He couldn't figure out whether it was a day or two. The yellow sand outside the house covered the sky, and he had long been unable to tell whether it was night or day.

At this moment, Waerlachi, who was sleepless, stared at the roof with wide eyes. But wherever his eyes were at the extreme was pitch black, and he could see clearly. It was like his dark and dull future.

It has been two years since he was expelled from the tribe. In the past two years, he was at a loss and aimlessly walking around the north and south of the Tianshan Mountains, like a lonely geese, suffering and insults. Therefore, he became more and more hated the indifference of the tribe members, the injustice of the elders in the tribe, and the ruthlessness of the beautiful Yali Immortal. He hoped that one day he would return to the tribe, take revenge, and wash away the suffering and humiliation he suffered with the blood of the tribe members.

For two years, he was involved in various caravans. With his familiarity with the desert grasslands and his exquisite archery skills, he acted as a caravan, guard, guide, and his flexible mind, and could only do it well, but he has worked in every caravan for a while. Because his reputation of being expelled by the tribe was too bad, his actions had defiled the honor of the Kazakh warriors. Although the north and south of the Tianshan Mountains were vast, his deeds spread all over the world like the wind. Although he had hidden his name many times, there was his own channel of information between the caravans.

"A person who has a bad reputation means being distrustworthy; a person who is not trusted will never be accepted by the caravan."

This was what a guard leader who had admired him so much that he said when he drove him out of the caravan. He still remembers the contempt in the eyes of the generous Kazakh man.

This time, he was very lucky to intervene in a Han caravan and serve as the guide of the caravan. On the way to Yishubali, the caravan encountered a black storm that happened once in a few decades.

"Bless Allah!" Thinking of the sudden black storm and the sand and stones swelled up the sky, Waerlachi was still in fear. If he hadn't reacted quickly, he would have discovered that the situation was not good, so he snatched a horse early and fled desperately, and he would have buried it with the caravan in the vast yellow sand.

Fortunately, he still remembered an abandoned fort nearby. Before the Black Storm came, he fled into the fort and hid in the only stone house in the fort.

"The caravan must be finished." Varlachi knew the consequences of the Black Storm. He was not worried about the life or death of the Han caravan, but worried about what he should do in the future. "This news cannot be hidden. I am afraid that no caravan dares to hire him again in the future."

He thought with great worries that he would be afraid that he would be unable to live in the future, so he would be a horse thief.

After a long time, Varlachi woke up from his thoughts. He heard the sound of wind and sand outside unknowingly, it was much smaller. It seemed that the black storm had passed. He then stood up from the ground and was about to move, when a wave of thunder suddenly came out of his abdomen. While escaping, he was in a hurry, and the dry food and water were placed on the horse. He got into the stone house and only cared about moving the stones and blocking the door, without even caring about the horse. After the black storm came, the horse was gone. At this time, he had no food and drink for several meals, and he was really hungry and thirsty.

Fenmen pushed open the big stone blocking stone and drilled out of the waist-deep yellow sand. Sure enough, the black storm had passed and the sky was already bright. Looking up, a storm had buried more than half of the fortress.

The power of heaven and earth comes to this.

"I'm still alive!" Varlachi survived the disaster and laughed loudly.

"Gray Rule!" A horse's neigh came from not far away, and the horse riding on it was swaying over.

"Haha! You beast is not dead, either." Varlachi was overjoyed. He hurriedly ran over in three steps, hurriedly took off the water bag from the horse's back, drank two big mouthfuls beautifully. He took out the naan bread, and ate it in two bites.

After he had eaten and drank enough, he drank some water for the horse. He packed up and stopped and was about to leave. At this time, he could only hear a slight sound of singing. The sound was actually the language of the Chinese people. Varlachi, who had been in the caravan for two years, could understand Chinese, but the song was elegant and elegant, but he couldn't understand what it meant.

"…I have also been from east, west, south and north, and I have never lost my way and walked through the dust. I can't stand the white hair hanging down and I'm going to patrol far away while dancing on the yellow sand.

If you are not dead, you will be able to see the world, and you will be happy and innocent in your life. You will travel all four mountains and five mountains, and you will be able to enter the spirit after flying in the eight directions..."

"Is it a Han person?!" Varlachi was very surprised.

Many years later, he read the poems and books of Han people, and only then did he know that this was a poem. The author was Qiu Chuji, a Quanzhen Sect in Changchun during the Song and Jin Dynasties. This was a poem written by Qiu Chuji, a Zhenren, who was invited by Genghis Khan to travel to Central Asia and traveled to the west for thousands of miles.

With his worries, Waerlachi hurried out of the fortress and looked around. He could see no one around. He saw a white dot appear on the line of the sky and earth where the black storm was gone. The white dot was getting bigger and bigger and closer. He just saw clearly that it was a camel, a pure white camel.

The white camel symbolizes good luck and good fortune. She is the messenger of Allah. It is said that anyone who is lucky enough to meet her will be blessed by Allah.

"This day is really my happiness." Varlazi was very happy.

Just as he was about to greet him respectfully, he saw the white camel stopping a few feet away, and a voice suddenly came. "My friend, where is this?"

Waerlachi only realized that there was an old man sitting on the white camel. He was dressed in shabby clothes and tall. He took off the hat on his head, and the man had a jade-like face, his hair and beard, and he casually tied a bun with a wooden hairpin on his head, with a kind and peaceful face. However, he could not tell the old man's age in his face.

For a moment, Varlazi was attracted by the old man's temperament and did not speak for a long time.

"Haha! The old Taoist has forgotten, you are afraid you can't understand Chinese." The old man patted his forehead and laughed. He changed to Kazakh and asked again.

At this time, Varlachi woke up as if he was in a dream and answered quickly. "I, I understand Chinese."

"Oh!?" The old man was a little surprised and looked at him closely.

Looking at the old man's eyes, as deep as Bosten Lake. Varlachi couldn't help feeling a little nervous because he had just spoken too much. In the past two years, he has learned some Chinese in the caravan, but only some daily terms, far from "knowing". He said quickly, "I, I understand, don't know much. It's just some, very few."

While talking, he gestured with his little fingers. After saying that, he felt panic and ashamed. How could he explain this to an old Han man so unreliable? He lost the pride of the Kazakh warriors.

"That, that, heading north, one day's journey is also lost to eight miles."

"Well! That's right. Thank you, my friend." As he said that, the old man nodded, withdrew his gaze and looked to the north. After a while, the old man turned over and jumped off the white camel's back, stroked the white camel affectionately, as if he had said something in a low voice, and let it go.

The white camel lowered his head spiritually, Tian Tian's hand, seemed to be reluctant to let go, turned around and walked a few steps, then leaned over and nodded to the old man, and then rushed towards the depths of the desert.

Standing beside Waerlachi looked at this magical scene, and was extremely surprised and could no longer speak. He had never heard of the desert elves - the wild white camel, who could be so close to people, and was an old Han man.

Watching the white camel go further and further, Varlachi stammered in Chinese. "The white camel is, yes, it's amazing. Why did you let it go?" Although the words were inappropriate, the regret was beyond words.

"Haha! That white camel is a holy thing in your eyes. In the eyes of the old Taoist, it is a friend who shares weal and woe with me. The old Taoist accidentally entered the black storm. If he hadn't met the white camel by chance, he would have been trapped in the sand and stone." The old man said lightly. "Alas! Compared with the power of heaven and earth, personal power is really too small."

As he said that, the old man ignored Vallachi and looked at the abandoned fortress with interest.

Varlazi didn't know what to say, but just stood behind the old man and stared at the old man's figure. He wanted to leave, but he didn't want to leave. He intuition that the old man was not an ordinary person. How could the person who could get close to God's messenger be an ordinary person?

It took Vallachi to hear the old man talking to himself. "It seems that this fort has been experiencing hundreds of years of wind and sand. I'm afraid it was the military fortress left by Yelu Dashi when he established the Western Liao Kingdom.

"That, Master Dao, who is Yelu Dashi?" Varlaqi asked with an idea.

"Sir? Haha. The old Taoist is not a big shot. I am a cultivator, like a wild crane." The old man smiled when he heard this. "It is a traveler who is floating around and has no place to live."

Seeing Varlaqi's ignorant look, the old man changed his statement and answered his question in a very concise way. "Now Yelu Dashi is a survivor of the Liao Kingdom. After the Liao Kingdom destroyed the country, he went deep into the desert to build the Western Liao Kingdom and was considered a hero."

"Okay, the old Taoist should hurry up. My friend, I will meet again if I have the chance." As he said that, the old man was about to leave.

It was also time for Vallaqi to be lucky. He suddenly became lucky and knelt down with a pounce, poured himself on his body, and kowtowed repeatedly.

"My friend, what are you doing?" The old man's heart was bright and he couldn't help but frown, but he didn't stop him.

After kowtowing seventeen or eighteen times, Waerlachi ignored the blood gushing out of his forehead. He raised his head and begged hard: "I, I don't know why, in my heart, my heart tells me that the old Taoist master is an amazing one. If I miss it, I will regret it for the rest of my life."

"Mr. Old Taoist, please take your poor servant Varlachi!"

The old man looked at Waerlachi's behavior calmly, and sighed after a while. "The old Taoist has seen countless people. If you look at your face, you will know that you are a person with a cold mind. However, your qualifications and vision are good, and you know how to seize opportunities. Well, the old Taoist has a whim and follows Laozi's journey westward and turns into Hu to seek the Tao. The white camel brings me here to meet you, and we should be destined to be. You should follow me."

In this way, Varlachi followed the old Taoist wandering around the vast Tianshan Mountains. Later, they met the young Ali, the Uygur man, and Nasr, a big bearded Persian. A few years later, the old Taoist said that he wanted to find the end of the world, and refused to follow the three of them, and drifted away, with a scattered trace of immortals.

Ali was determined to revive his tribe and resist tyranny, and resolutely returned to his tribe. Nasr continued his way to find the truth, but put down his books and mingled in the market. And he, Varlachi, came south to the Central Plains and Jiangnan, and his pseudonym Huahui.

The past is vivid in my mind. When Hua Hui woke up, he was still in his dream. It took a while before he could clearly realize his situation. He was not dead.

It was already late at night.

Hua Hui looked around and saw that he was so familiar. Tathagata himself was lying in the wooden house where he had lived alone for many years. If it weren't for the numbness and itch that had been with him for nearly ten years that had disappeared, and the fire in the fire pit on the ground was burning, he would have suspected that he had a dream.

There was no one else in the house except himself. It seemed that Lu Buming and the others were not here. Hua Hui pretended to be unconscious and secretly mobilized his inner breath. If he wanted to escape, the poisonous needle attached to his back had gone, and he could recover his martial arts within the year after he recuperated. If he had changed to another place, he would not dare to say that. In this desert, he was 70% sure to find an opportunity to escape.

When he took a deep breath, he found that the Dantian was empty and there was no real energy in the meridians in his body.

how so?

"Wake up!" As the wooden door creaked, a blue figure walked in.

"Don't bother. Your martial arts have been ruined by me."

The person who came was Lu Buming.
Chapter completed!