More than two hundred monks and nuns were sitting on the ground, beating wooden fish, turning prayer beads, and chanting the Buddhist Sanskrit "Rebirth Mantra".
This is a kind of Sanskrit sound that can make people's soul peaceful. It seems that no matter how vicious a person is, they will be thoroughly cleansed by singing this kind of peaceful Buddhist sound.
In the past, what Ye Xiaochuan hated the most was Buddhist singing. After living in Jishi Nunnery for a few days, when he heard the sounds of the nuns doing morning prayers every day, he wanted to bang his head against the wall.
Now his mentality seemed to have changed a lot. He looked back, looked at the corpses and the monks and nuns emitting Buddha light, and listened to the misty Sanskrit sounds. He felt that if he died, his soul would be willing to listen.
To chant this kind of Buddhist music.
Ye Xiaochuan's originally very irritable heart gradually calmed down under the sound of Buddha.
Buddhist disciples are sending souls, but in the valley behind Samsara Peak, someone is calling for souls.
The old storyteller had already used up half the bucket of human blood, and the summoning pattern he drew on the ground was finally over.
This is a huge, complex and extremely strange magic circle. Hua Wuyou can be regarded as one of the few people with the most extensive experience in the Three Realms, but he cannot understand the strange patterns drawn by the old storyteller at all.
When the last pattern on the ground was finished, the old storyteller was sweating profusely and panting like an ox.
Obviously, the old storyteller spent a lot of energy in the process of setting up the formation and drawing the pictures.
Seeing that the old storyteller had finished drawing the patterns on the ground, Hua Wuyou asked, "Old sir, what kind of magic circle is this?"
The old storyteller shook his head and said hoarsely: "Nine Netherworld's Resurrection Blood Curse to Fix the Universe."
Hua Wuyou said: "What a strange name."
The old storyteller grinned and said: "I took it myself. If you find it strange, just call it the Resurrection Blood Formation.
Come on, lend me your hand and take off Xiaolou’s girl’s clothes.”
Hua Wuyou said: "What?"
The old storyteller said: "The Resurrection Blood Formation is just a formation diagram. The core formation is on the body of Miss Xiaolou. You won't let me take off her clothes by myself."
Hua Wuyou said: "I'll do it."
After saying that, he walked to the flower garden and untied Yuan Xiaolou's clothes one by one.
Soon, there was no trace of Yuan Xiaolou covering his body.
If he were a little pervert like Ye Xiaochuan, he would definitely have wild thoughts when he saw Xiaolou's naked body at this moment.
But neither Hua Wuyou nor the old storyteller are ordinary people.
They are all worldly masters.
Among them, Hua Wuyou cannot be regarded as a person, but can only be regarded as a monster that is neither human nor demon.
I have no interest in the body of a dead girl.
The old storyteller asked Hua Wuyou to clean up and wipe off all the blood stains on Yuan Xiaolou's body.
The dignified Venerable Wuyou has now become the undertaker serving the corpse. He took out a cloth towel and a large jar, and bit by bit washed away all the nun's blood stains on Yuan Xiaolou's skin and wiped them dry.
As the blood stains gradually disappeared, the wound pierced by the Purple Sun Divine Dagger on Yuan Xiaolou's chest was shocking.
After wiping the front body, the old storyteller asked Hua Wuyou to turn Yuan Xiaolou's body over and wipe the blood on his back.
After Yuan Xiaolou's body was clean, the old storyteller picked up the judge's pen and began to draw strange blood-red lines on Yuan Xiaolou's back with human blood on it.
Originally, the resurrecting blood formation drawn by the old storyteller was drawn three inches below the soil with a judge's pen. The area was covered with weeds and flowerbeds that were up to the ankles. It was not clear from the outside what the old storyteller had drawn.
Hua Wuyou just felt that those patterns were weird.
At this moment, the line pattern drawn by Yin Hong's blood appeared on Yuan Xiaolou's back, and Hua Wuyou could see it clearly now.
These lines are very simple, but the patterns they form are eerie and terrifying, some are like ferocious hungry ghosts, and some are like twisted mountain monsters.
There are even patterns that require organs and the like.
One is more terrifying than the other, and one is more terrifying than the other.
Hua Wuyou, a peerless expert who transcends life and death, has a heart as solid as a rock. When he saw the terrifying patterns on Yuan Xiaolou's back, his expression gradually turned gloomy.
The old storyteller not only painted bright red scary patterns on Yuan Xiaolou's back, but also painted different, but eerie and weird patterns on her legs, arms, and butt.
When the north side of her body was completely covered with blood-colored line patterns, the old storyteller asked Hua Wuyou to help develop Yuan Xiaolou's Dharma Body again, and she began to draw patterns on her smooth front body, on her face, chest, and shoulders.
The neck, abdomen, legs, and even the soles of the feet were not spared.
Yuan Xiaolou was a beautiful woman, but the old storyteller was old enough to be her great-grandfather. Faced with such a flawless body, the old storyteller did not feel any blasphemy.
He painted very slowly and carefully. The tip of the judge's pen that could have penetrated the soil now became extremely soft, as if he was afraid of scratching Yuan Xiaolou's skin that could be broken by a blow.
When the last stroke of the painting was completed, Yuan Xiaolou's body had turned into a strange corpse dissatisfied with blood-colored lines and patterns.
The old storyteller collapsed weakly on the ground, panting, and his forehead was covered with beads of sweat.
Hua Wuyou said: "Old man, it doesn't matter.
Your current situation looks very bad, wouldn’t it be a bit reluctant to forcefully perform the resurrecting technique?”
The old storyteller waved his hand and said: "I am old and my body is no longer useful. If three hundred years ago, I could have painted ten or eight resurrecting blood formations in one go."
This is bragging.
The art of resurrecting is a taboo in the universe. Just finishing the painting of this rather complicated resurrecting blood array requires a lot of mental strength to support it.
Even when the old storyteller was young, he would not have been able to draw ten or eight of them in one go.
The old storyteller was too tired, so he simply sat still and directed Hua Wuyou to work.
Now that bowl of the most expensive elixir in the Three Realms has finally been put to use.
Under the command of the old storyteller, Hua Wuyou squatted next to Yuan Xiaolou's dharma body, picked up the big black bowl, slowly raised Yuan Xiaolou's head with his other hand, and slowly filled the bowl with the elixir.
Entered into Yuan Xiaolou’s mouth.
"Enough is enough! She is dead now. No matter how many elixirs are poured into her, it will be useless. Just make sure that there is a slight flow of spiritual energy in her throat.
You pour some elixir on her wound."
Hua Wuyou did as he was told.
After finishing, there is still half a bowl of elixir left, which can be used later.
He said: "Old sir, you said that the resurrection magic can only revive a person who has been dead for seven hours. It is already noon, and nearly two hours have passed. If we don't do it, it will be too late."
The old storyteller nodded.
Resurrection magic has time requirements, and seven hours after death is the limit.
The longer the delay, the greater the difficulty and the slimmer the chance of success.
On the contrary, the earlier you perform the magic of resurrecting the soul, the greater the chance of success.
