Ghost Salamander watched helplessly as Gordon climbed out of the conglomerate and threw himself into the raging river of fire. At that moment, he saw the magma rising and the flames shining brightly, like a crimson throne rising to welcome the arrival of the monarch.
The bitter owl monsters swarmed over, and one of them grabbed the fastest one. He grabbed Gao Deng with both arms and raised it above his head. His throat sounded like crying and laughing, like a howl exploding from a suffocated chest.
One after another, shining golden feathers continuously drilled out of Gordon's skin and quickly covered his body. The bitter owl monster kept howling, and its thick feathers fell off one after another, revealing its skinny body. "Dudududu!" The fire liquid rolled.
Bubbling, the bitter owl monster shivered in pain, and its bones and flesh flowed down like a hot candle, melting in the river of fire.
However, the ghost salamander suddenly couldn't hear the pain in the bitter owl's screams. The screams gradually became lower and softer, like the mist floating on the lake, hazy, wandering and drifting.
With a "clang" sound, the stabbing sword slipped from Guixiao's palm. He listened blankly, recalling the theft and wandering when he was a child. The road ahead was confused and he didn't know where to go.
The cry of the bitter owl is getting deeper and deeper, like the music playing in the deep valley at midnight, winding and lingering, silent and lonely.
Ghost Salamander seems to have gone back to the late nights when he practiced martial arts hard, gritting his teeth, enduring the pain, and slowly turned into a "monster" that others could avoid.
The soft cry gradually turned and kept rising, like sparks splashing in the abyss, getting brighter and brighter, until it turned into bright fireworks rising into the sky, illuminating the depths of the ghost's soul.
It was the first time I came into contact with the faith of a warrior, the first time I realized that I was no longer a killing tool, and the first time that cultivation was no longer painful.
Ghost Salamander raised his head and saw the bitter owl monster sinking slowly, submerging into the boiling fire a little bit, but its screams never stopped. Each one was louder than the other, flowing into the dry eye sockets of Ghost Salamander.
"Why are you saying this to me?" He vaguely heard Gordon asking again.
Because I've been alone for too long.
The lava submerged its neck, and the bitter owl monster raised its head, smiled, and let out the last cry in its life.
It was a clear cry full of joy! It was sparkling and exciting, high-pitched and sonorous, like a phoenix reborn from the ashes, fading away all the suffering in the world and making the golden and red river of fire eclipse.
In this life, Ghost Salamander has never heard such a moving voice.
He slowly fell to his knees, tears filling his eyes.
"I accept your challenge!" He laughed with tears, stared at Gordon who had turned into a bitter owl monster, jumped into the river of fire.
"I am Gordon, I am human." Gordon repeated it in his mind over and over again, reminding himself.
Golden feathers thickly wrapped his body, his consciousness gradually blurred, his hands and feet turned into claws, and his throat howled in pain uncontrollably.
Gordon reluctantly performed the Tibetan Abyss pose, struggling to hold on to the glimmer of clarity in his heart, as the surging magma swayed and swayed, as if many years had passed.
Pain, despair, regret... Like a surging fire wave, it swept over in waves with no end. In the hazy state, he once again saw the long river of time, hidden deep in the ground, roaring and roaring. He wanted to swim across it,
But that river is too far away and too vague to reach.
If I can't swim across, I will always be nothing more than a bitter owl monster. Gordon struggled with all his strength, stretched out his arms in vain, and let out pitiful howls.
"Your legs are difficult to heal." A voice suddenly sounded, and he followed the sound. The monk was sitting by the river of time, his feet soaking in the water, his eyes pure and vicissitudes of life.
"My legs have been able to run for a long time." Gordon tried his best to stretch out his arms, but he couldn't catch the monk, and the two sides seemed to be separated by countless worlds.
"That's not running." The monk stared at him quietly, his figure seemed to be very close at hand, and the crystal water droplets flickered and jumped on his bare feet.
"Then what is running?" Gordon exhaled the hot breath in his chest.
"Running in one direction is the real running." The monk asked, "Where is your direction?"
Gordon was lost in thought, and his mind fell into confusion again. The monk's figure became fainter and fainter, as if he was about to float away into smoke.
"I want to be like you!" Gordon rowed his limbs desperately, trying to catch up with the monk, and lava dripped from his feathers. "This is the direction I am running!"
"People will never be the same." The monk shook his head slowly.
"Humans and bitter owl monsters are different!" Gordon kept waving his arms to the monk, "Help me! You can definitely do it!"
"Why can't I definitely do it? The Xiwei Technique can help you once, and the Zangyuan Style can help you once. Are you going to wait for others to help you in this life? How can waiting be considered running?" The monk lowered his eyes and said softly.
Sighing softly, "Your legs are difficult to heal."
"But……"
"But I tried my best, but I was too tired today, but the secret was too hard to find, but I turned into a bitter owl monster... Every time you say 'but', you have to wait again. Even if you have the direction, you still have to wait.
Can you run over?"
Gordon was stunned for a while, then suddenly shouted: "But people are not alone! When I am paralyzed, my father will help me! When there is a sandstorm, Artai will help me! When I bleed, cicada will also help me! Isn't that what people do?
Are you running forward step by step like this?"
"I run alone." The monk tilted his head and looked at Gordon with a childlike curiosity in his eyes.
"So you fell down and can't get up again, right?" Gordon raised his arm and pointed at the river of time, "You didn't make it to the end!"
The monk felt sad for a long time and nodded silently.
In a secular sense, he has died, and what remains in the long river of time is only an immortal soul imprint. In a certain wave of waves, it resonates mysteriously with the young man in front of him.
"Because there is no way for a person to run across the finish line." Gordon's eyes flashed brightly, and his mind became more and more clear. "On the distant and confusing road, there are many crutches that you can't see. You can hold them.
Keep running forward!"
The monk said: "Then your legs will never be cured."
Gordon asked back: "Can't you run if you can't heal your legs?"
The monk was silent for a moment and asked again: "Then where are you running to?"
"As long as you keep running, you will see it one day."
"What if you are like me and fall down halfway?"
"People will never be the same!" A calm smile appeared on Gordon's face. At this moment, he suddenly understood that what the bitter owl wanted to reach out to grab was not a substitute, but the lost crutches.
And he already had it inadvertently.
So he will always be Gordon, not a bitter owl monster.
The monk smiled, stood up slowly, and stretched out his arms to Gordon.
Traveling through the dusty time and countless years of waiting, the monk and the boy were connected in the most mysterious and solemn way in life, with their eyes facing each other and their hands clasped tightly.
The magma river exploded, and a bottomless ravine opened at the bottom of the river, twisting and turning to the depths of the earth.
"Flowers bloom and fall, but faith remains forever." The monk whispered.