Chapter 715 The Sea of Bitterness Is Boundless, Advise Lord Grim Not to Turn Around

At that time, the snow at the foot of the Great Abyss Mountain did not stop.

The gray snow covered the heavens and the earth, making the starless night even colder.

Today, the foot of the Great Abyss Mountain, where no grass could be seen, was a little more lively than before. At this moment, the once bare snowy ground was full of tents, densely packed here, and it was almost impossible to see the boundaries with a single glance.

Bonfires were lit everywhere in the camp, using wooden shed as a shield to illuminate the camp. However, even so, the camp was still filled with strangeness and silence compared to the snowy night outside the camp.

Naturally, this camp would not appear out of thin air. There were patrol personnel everywhere in the camp. Their entire bodies were wrapped in white robes, but there was not the slightest sound wherever they passed. They were silent, like ghosts, and almost no sound could be heard in the large camp.

At the center of the camp was the largest tent. Unlike the tents that had been extinguished long ago and had almost merged with the night sky, there were still candles burning in the tent, and one could vaguely see that there were shadows shaking inside.

There was a campfire burning in the huge tent, steaming hot, in stark contrast to the cold night outside and the silence in the camp.

But even so, the monk in the tent wearing luxurious mink fur still seemed to be a little cold.

"Cough cough cough cough." He coughed violently and then stretched out his hand to tighten his clothes. When the two men standing behind him saw this, the iron tower-like man hurriedly asked, "Does the hall master still feel cold? I'll go get some more firewood."

As he spoke, the sturdy man stepped forward, looking at his posture as if he wanted to "do what he says."

"No need." However, before he could walk out of the tent, the monk's voice suddenly sounded, his tone extremely weak, as if it would suddenly stop at any moment. "No matter how much firewood you add, it's useless. My illness is not something that can be cured with medicinal stones, nor can it be cured with just a few firewood."

The sturdy man's mind was simple, and he could be said to be obedient to the monk's words. When he heard this, he really stopped walking and wanted to take back the foot that he had just stepped out of.

"Let's add some more!" However, at this moment, a voice suddenly came from the other side of the tent.

A girl with purple eyes stood up and said.

The burly man immediately hesitated, as if he wasn't sure who to listen to. At that time, he turned his gaze to the nearby monk as if he was asking for help. The monk couldn't help but sigh and said, "Just do as His Majesty wants."

When the strong man heard this, he heaved a sigh of relief. As he said this, he quickly ran out of the tent, looking for firewood.

"This Wilde" The purple-eyed girl with an ice-cold expression seemed to be amused by the sturdy man's performance, and a rare smile appeared on her face.

"Ah, this disciple of mine has a simple mind. In the future … His Majesty will have to take care of him more. If there is anything inappropriate, His Majesty, please give him a chance to live in front of me."

The monk's words carried an aura of explaining the aftermath, causing the skinny cultivator behind him to change his expression after hearing this. However, he was more flexible than Wilde's skinny cultivator and understood that this was not a place for him to interfere. Therefore, he only buried the shock in his heart and did not say anything else.

"Are you ready to die?" The purple-eyed girl who had just stood up naturally recognized the monk's voice. She narrowed her eyes and asked in a deep voice. Her pupils shrank slightly, as if something was surging in her heart.

"Your Majesty, this old minister has lived for three hundred years. How can anyone live forever?" Tyrant said with a smile. He did not feel the sorrow and fear that a person who was about to die should feel. Instead, he felt a little more relieved.

The purple-eyed girl stared at the monk.

Then, she said in a calm voice, "I won't die."

The monk smiled again and said, "Your Majesty is different. Your Majesty is the son of Heaven's Will, the purest divine seed in all generations. He should have lived longer than the Heavens. How can he die? However, I do not have this blessing and cannot accompany Your Majesty all the time."

The purple-eyed girl's pupils began to shrink violently. Dark yet incomparably powerful energy began to surge out of her body. The campfire burning in the tent began to jump, and it suddenly darkened and brightened. The girl's face revealed a ferocious and terrifying smell under the flames.

She said again, "I…"

"I don't want you to die!"

I don't want you to die, but these five words seem to contain some kind of magic power. As soon as these words descend, energy surges from heaven and earth,

Black and purple auras gathered in the sky above the camp. After circling for a while, they surged into the tent. The auras covered the sky and carried tremendous might. In an instant, they surged into the body of the pale-faced black-clothed monk sitting in the wheelchair.

Tyrant's body trembled. As the aura surged in, his pale face turned a little rosy, and his weak aura also grew longer.

However, this did not give him the slightest bit of rejoicing. Instead, he looked at the purple-eyed girl with a sad expression and asked in a calm voice, "What are you trying to do?"

The purple-eyed girl bent her body and continued to breathe heavily. It seemed that this method was extremely exhausting for her. She raised her head and sweated profusely on her forehead. However, her gaze stared firmly at the monk and said, "You are my last relative … I won't let you die, you can't die."

After saying this, she did not wait for the monk to give her a reply. She waved her hand and said, "Montenegro, bring… bring the hall master down to rest."

Hearing this, the skinny cultivator hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. He pushed the black-clothed monk's wheelchair and slowly walked out of the tent. At the entrance of the tent, they bumped into the sturdy man who was hurrying back with a large bundle of firewood in his arms.

Seeing this, the sturdy man was stunned and asked, "Has the Palace Master left? Then this firewood…?"

Montenegro was obviously a little impatient with his dumb colleague. He rolled his eyes and was about to say something, but the monk sitting in the wheelchair said, "Send it over."

The sturdy man hurriedly nodded his head when he heard this and ran towards the tent with firewood in his arms.

Montenegro tilted his head to look at the figure of the big man who had left. Then, he shook his head helplessly and pushed the wheelchair towards the direction of the monk's tent.

"Montenegro… How many years have you followed me?" But unexpectedly, the usually silent Palace Master suddenly asked.

In the bottom of Montenegro's heart, the monk was a very mysterious person. He was so mysterious that even if he had followed him for so many years, it would be difficult for him to see his true and false state. He was always scheming, as if nothing in this world could escape his calculations. This made Montenegro, who was proficient in the techniques of the Book of Changes, astonished. Apart from important accidents, this hall master also rarely chatted with anyone. Of course, this had to be done with the purple-eyed girl.

Because of this, when the monk asked this question, Montenegro was obviously stunned. Only then did he reply, "It has been 267 years since I left Lunar Temple with the Hall Master."

A smile appeared on the monk's face. He said, "You remember it very clearly."

"There are some things that I don't dare to forget in the end." Montenegro also laughed.

…

Two hundred and sixty-seven years ago, the Confucian scholar who walked out of Lunar Temple walked aimlessly in the mortal world.

He had walked for many years and had seen many people. He had set up a small stall and put it there wherever he went. He had counted the fortunes of many people. As for marriage and future prospects, most of them could be fulfilled. However, there were occasional variables. This variable was probably what his master had said about people's hearts.

However, what he still held in mind was that he had spent several years in the Lunar Temple to calculate the Proverbs 19 for the world. The world would return to the abyss, the stars would shine alone, and the phoenix would be in ruins.

What exactly did he mean by this, and how did he explain it? This question had always troubled Confucian scholars.

As he walk, he thought, as he slept, that as long as he had time, he would have to ponder, he would have to ponder. He wanted to return to Lunar Temple again, but Master had ordered him to train in the mortal world. Only when that opportunity came would he be able to return.

He didn't understand what that opportunity was, but he vaguely felt that it had something to do with the 16-character proverb.

Therefore, he never let go of this matter until one day, he opened a stall in a small city in Great Xia Liao Province, but his business was not very good. The Confucian scholar who had been thinking about the motto all night was somewhat drowsy.

"A fortune teller might be able to calculate a divination for me." At this moment, a gentle voice suddenly sounded in his ears, pulling the scholar out of his sleep.

He rubbed his confused eyes and looked at the visitor, but he couldn't help but be stunned. It was a monk with a picturesque brow and a crying baby in his arms.

This kind of combination was somewhat strange. The scholar couldn't help but look at it a few more times, but the monk had already sat down in front of the stall after saying this.

The scholar came back to his senses and asked, "What do you want? A future or a marriage?"

When he said this, he was a little angry. He wished he could slap himself on the spot. How could he ask about the monk's marriage?

However, the monk was not angry and replied, "Future."

The scholarly scholar secretly rejoiced at the monk's good temper and extended his hand to signal, "Then would you please extend your right hand and have a look with me?"

However, the monk shook his head and looked at the baby in his arms. The light in his eyes was gentle, but he said, "Look at her."

The scholar was stunned, but he quickly reacted. He stood up slightly and looked at the child in the monk's embrace. He was about to say something, but his body trembled at that moment, as if he was heavily struck by lightning, unable to move.

The child had a pair of purple pupils. Although he was crying in his infancy like an ordinary child, the moment he met that pair of eyes, the 16-word proverb kept echoing in the scholarly scholar's mind.

Nineteen is the extreme, the world goes back to the abyss, destiny stars shine alone, phoenix in the ruins.

Nineteen is the extreme, the world goes back to the abyss, destiny stars shine alone, phoenix in the ruins.

Nineteen is the extreme, the world goes back to the abyss, destiny stars shine alone, phoenix in the ruins.

…

The voice echoed in his mind over and over again, as if something was about to burst out of his mind, regardless of the indescribable fear lingering around the scholarly scholar's body. It was clearly a child, but the moment he met his eyes, he felt an impulse to worship him.

Just like that, he maintained his slight movement of getting up and stood there for a long time.

"Sir, is it still considered?" The monk's voice pulled the scholar out of his trance.

The scholar was stunned. He looked at the monk, but the monk's eyebrows were filled with a faint smile. He was also looking at him.

"She is" The scholar extended his hand and pointed at the child with trembling lips.

The smile on the monk's face grew thicker and thicker. He said, "This is my daughter, how is it? Is she cute?"

The scholar no longer had the mood to think about where a monk's daughter came from. He just continued to say with a frightened expression, "But she… But she… is not a human…"

The monk was not surprised by the Confucian scholar's words, nor was he angry at all. He still smiled and said, "But she is still alive, isn't she?"

"If the heavens want people to die, then they have to die. If the heavens want to die, then Chu will die. But I don't believe in the number of days, so I have to change the number of days. Look, since someone can change it, what's the use of the number of days calculated by the Zhou Yi method?"

The Confucian scholar's heart trembled. He stared at the monk and flicked his fingers under his sleeve. He calculated the foundation of the monk in front of him, but the more he calculated, the heavier his head became. In the end, his face turned pale and he spat out a blood arrow.

He supported the stall, looked at the monk with a dispirited expression, and asked with his last breath, "Who exactly are you?"

The monk stretched out his hand and lightly tapped between the Confucian scholar's eyebrows. At that moment, his vast vitality rushed into the scholar's body. The backlash from his forceful spying on Heaven's Will was completely neutralized. Then, the monk said, "Follow me. I'll take you to see what the number set for this day looks like."

After saying that, the monk stood up and walked towards the depths of the street.

The scholar stood there and pondered for a long time before finally gritting his teeth and following in the footsteps of the monk.

And this was 267 years.

…

The heavy snow fell on Montenegro's shoulders, and the slight coldness pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Montenegro" The monk's voice sounded at the right time, "These days, I've been wondering whether I changed the number of days, or was the so-called number of days driving me in the direction it set. Am I a fish that went up against the current, or a chess piece that I didn't know I was in?"

Montenegro lowered his head and remained silent. He thought about the motto he had calculated more than two hundred years ago, and recalled the day when he chased after Ye Hongjian. He saw the situation outside Chang'an City and said after a long while, "Perhaps … the number of days has never changed, or perhaps … we are all lambs that think we are right under the Heavenly Dao."

The monk was stunned, his expression a little lonely. But soon he laughed again, "Is that so?"

"But can we still turn around?" He murmured to himself.

The snow was getting heavier and heavier, almost drowning the two of them.

"Hall Master, do you sometimes envy Wilde?" Montenegro did not answer the monk's question, but asked instead.

"Why are you envious of him?"

"He never looks back, nor does he look back and forth."

"Oh? Is this good?"

"The Buddhists said that the Sea of Bitterness is boundless, but since it is boundless, if you turn around and see the shore, but you can't reach the shore, then what are you going to do?"

"Haha. Heishan, you have a very wise root. How about I make you a monk?"

…

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