And the Ming Qianhe in front of him actually used a red prismatic object to say such big words, which shows the depth of the mystery. book
Under Ming Qianhe's instruction, Qing Kuang began to gather the inner energy from his whole body into the palm of his hand, and spread the abundant inner energy to the Bafang Cauldron.
Gradually, in front of the two of them, the bronze tripod of Impressions began to turn red and shine, like iron tempered in a furnace.
And the prismatic objects in the cauldron began to gradually melt and turned into a blood-like liquid.
"The Bafangding Cauldron is really a wonder of the world! It is worthy of being a relic of the great alchemist!" [
Ming Qianhe looked at the scene in Qing Kuang's hands and couldn't help but nod in admiration. Although he himself was not proficient in the art of refining, he still knew a lot about the world's rare treasures and secret allusions.
On the side, Qing Kuang closed his eyes and concentrated, and the internal energy continued to flow into the Bafang Cauldron. It seemed that it had gradually reached the most critical moment. Inside the cauldron, the boiling red liquid seemed to contain countless demons, constantly changing and rolling.
Fine beads of sweat began to appear on Qing Kuang's forehead. His whole body seemed to have merged with the thing in the cauldron, inseparable from each other.
"Qingkuang! Can you still hold on?"
When Ming Qianhe saw the trembling woman in front of him, his face began to turn pale.
Ming Qianhe couldn't help but have many doubts in his heart. After all, Feng Qingkuang's foundation was still shallow. If he brought this evil stone... he didn't know if she would be able to surrender!
After some intense and painful suffering, Ming Qianhe finally saw that the red liquid in the cauldron began to emit hot gas, and the purple-red breath began to sublimate continuously.
"It's time!"
Ming Qianhe secretly thought in his heart, opened his palms, stared at the mist-shrouded cauldron with all his strength.
Slowly, the red gas sublimated from the prismatic evil stone was firmly held by Ming Qianhe's thick hands.
Like a restrained beast, after a fierce struggle, the mist in Ming Qianhe's hands finally calmed down.
Qing Kuang slowly opened her eyes. Right in front of her, she saw dark red threads slowly extending from between the fingers of Ming Qianhe's closed palms, as if they were alive.
A low whimpering sound.
This scene shocked Qing Kuang, and she soon realized what she was doing. She immediately took off the Xianmo Guqin from her back, removed the original strings, and held it up with both hands.
And those string threads transformed from the red mist in Ming Qianhe's hands, as if they had their own spirituality, quickly fell on the string ink, and actually took root like vine branches...
Within a few breaths, all eight strings had fallen into place again.
On the pitch-black stand of the Xianmo Guqin, a faint red light sometimes looms, which is unreasonable. The wind blows and the Guqin emits bursts of low humming.
"What a great string!"
Qing Kuang gently stroked the new Xian Mo and couldn't help but sigh softly.
Now I put the guqin on my knees, placed my fingers gently on it, and carefully fiddled with it. The sound was clear and exciting, like a sharp arrow, with full penetrating power.[
However, it was cold under the touch of my fingers. When I put my hand down, I suddenly felt something strange between my fingers. When I looked again, I didn't know when my palm had been cut by the strings, and there were bright red blood stains on it.
Ming Qianhe slowly put away his palm power and said quietly: