Asking about longevity

Ink painting aroused interest.

He looked carefully a few more times and confirmed that the white-faced man's fireball technique did have some skills and was different from ordinary fireball techniques.

I still want to study ink painting.

Scarface and the white-faced man have already stopped.

This is Black Mountain Village, and they have to watch the mountain gate. If anything goes wrong due to a moment of dissatisfaction, they will all die.

So even if a fight breaks out, it's just a taste of it and I don't dare to really take action.

The ink painting is a bit disappointing.

He also expected the two of them to fight to the death, so that he could pick up the slack.

In the end, the thunder was loud and the rain was light. After a few moves, it was over.

Scarface and the white-faced man each said a few harsh words, then sat together and drank bad wine, as if nothing had happened just now.

Just as they looked around, both of them had murderous intent in their eyes.

Mo Hua thought about it and was still very concerned about the white-faced man's fireball technique.

He now has the spells to save his life, but the spells to attack are inferior.

Although the fireball technique is fast and accurate, its power is indeed average.

If you can learn the secret of the fireball technique from the white-faced man, you can enhance your attack methods without having to learn other spells.

Mo Hua paid attention, so after daytime, he began to follow the white-faced man.

I saw the white-faced man going straight back to his room after watching the night.

The white-faced man was just an ordinary evil cultivator. The room he lived in was no different from other evil cultivators. It was quite spacious, but the furnishings were messy and not bloody. There was only a big box in the corner.

After staying up all night, the white-faced man looked sleepy. He rested for a while, then got up and began to meditate with his eyes closed.

The ink painting looked a little strange.

This white-faced man seems to have used no spiritual stones when practicing.

Without spiritual stones, what can he cultivate? Do you practice air cultivation?

After a while, the white-faced man opened his eyes, a trace of annoyance flashing in his eyes.

He walked straight to the corner and opened the big box in the corner.

Mo Hua lay on the beam, looked sideways, and saw that the box contained a living monk!

The monk was sallow and thin, and he shrank and hid in the box, not daring to make a sound.

The white-faced man ordered: "Come out."

When the monk heard this, his eyes turned blankly, and then he walked out.

"Kneel down!"

The monk did not resist and knelt down as instructed.

The white-faced man saw this man kneeling in front of him, his eyes showing excitement, and then he pressed his forehead with his palm.

The monk's spiritual power began to reverse course, and then gathered in his sea of ​​​​qi from the white-faced man's palm.

The monk seemed to be used to being submissive, with a dull look on his face, neither resisting nor making a sound, like a piece of wood, a dead thing, suffering the fate of having his spiritual power squeezed out.

In just one cup of tea, the white-faced man was filled with spiritual energy, satisfied, and his dead-white face became more colorful.

He patted the monk's face and said in a charitable tone:

"You have to practice the techniques I teach you well."

"You have to remember that it was me who saved your life and making you a 'spiritual slave' is a gift to you. If not, you would have been sucked in by other evil cultivators."

"You are still alive now, thanks to me!"

After the white-faced man finished speaking, he pointed at the box and said, "Go back and don't make any sound.

The monk who was regarded as the 'spiritual slave' walked back to the wooden box with a dull expression and huddled silently in the box without making any sound.

Mo Hua looked chilling.

Only then did he realize that the so-called spiritual slaves meant treating monks as slaves and draining their spiritual power.

These monks are more like moving ‘spiritual stones’ than humans.

He actually treats people as spiritual slaves and spiritual stones.

Mo Hua's small eyebrows furrowed.

As Elder Yu said, the monks here are indeed beasts.

The white-faced man absorbed the spiritual power of the 'Spirit Slave', and then began to meditate and refine.

The spiritual energy of spiritual stones is pure, while the spiritual power of monks is different.

Although it is easier and more convenient to refine the spiritual power of other monks, it will be incompatible with one's own spiritual power, causing evil and evil, and it is easy to change one's character and become possessed.

Therefore, all soul-absorbing techniques are regarded as evil techniques and are not tolerated by the Taoist court.

This is what Zhang Lan told Mo Hua.

The white-faced man absorbed the spirit slave's spiritual power, meditated and refined it, and his face changed erratically.

Sometimes ferocious, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes crazy, sometimes mixed with pain and pleasure.

After a while, the white-faced man finished practicing and returned to his pale face and weak body, but his cultivation aura had indeed become stronger.

The white-faced man was in a happy mood. He took out a book from his storage bag and read it intently.

Mo Hua took a sneak peek and his heart skipped a beat.

The cover page of the book was partially blocked by the white-faced man, but the two words exposed were "Fireball."

Fireball!

Sure enough, this white-faced man practiced a special fireball technique!

If it were an ordinary fireball technique, there was no reason for him to treat it like a treasure, carry it around with him, and take it out from time to time to study.

It's just that he carries the secret book of the fireball technique with him, and Mo Hua is not easy to steal.

It seems that we can only wait until we have the opportunity to talk about it later.

Before Mo Hua left, he looked at the wooden box in the corner again. In that wooden box, there was a spirit slave.

The Lingnu was probably not that old, but he was sallow and skinny, and his spiritual power had been drained, making him look much older.

Although he looks dull and expressionless now, he may have once been a cheerful and kind-hearted young man.

I wonder if his parents knew that he was trapped in Black Mountain Village?

Thinking of this, Mo Hua sighed.

Now that my cultivation is limited, I can't save him at all.

If I succeed in my cultivation in the future, I will kill these evil heretics one by one!

Mo Hua thought angrily.

In the next few days, Mo Hua still concentrated on drawing maps.

One day, Mo Hua felt a little hungry, so he went to the dining room of Heishan Village to find some food.

The dining room in Heishanzhai is large and the location is relatively remote.

It was a bit dirty inside, with blood everywhere, and the table was filled with various pieces of meat.

Mo Hua didn't know what kind of meat these were, so he didn't dare to eat them.

I can only steal some wild fruits and pastries to fill my stomach.

Before he came, he didn't expect to stay in Black Village for so long, so he didn't have much food in his storage bag.

Now that the contents of the storage bag have been eaten up, I can only make do with some evil cultivator food.

Wild fruits are a bit sour and astringent, and have a bad taste.

It is estimated that the poisonous miasma in the deep mountains is too strong and the water and soil are not good, so it cannot bear any good fruits.

Pastries are even more difficult to eat.

Mo Hua took a bite and almost spit it out.

It's far worse than what his mother did.

Mo Hua missed the food cooked by his mother, and suddenly thought that he had been staying in Heishan Village for several days and there was no news about his parents. He didn't know how worried he should be.

Mo Hua sighed in his heart: "If I had known, I would have told my parents first so that they would not worry."

But the matter has come to this, and there is no point in regretting it.

It's better to finish the map as soon as possible, get some good news, and then go back early.

It also saves parents from worrying.

Mo Hua nodded, then endured the smell and swallowed the cake.

Although this pastry is unpalatable, it can still fill your stomach.

At this time, there is nothing to choose from.

While Mo Hua was eating, he suddenly heard someone talking.

The one who spoke was the old man cooking in the dining room, and the other's voice sounded familiar to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua raised his head from under the table, took a sneak peek, and found that the other person was actually the fat monk.

The fat monk killed the thin monk, used the thin monk's head to ask for directions, and entered the Black Mountain Stronghold, but he only did a meal delivery job.

The old man told the fat monk: "Give this meal to the young master, don't let him starve to death."

The fat monk nodded in agreement.

Mo Hua was chewing the pastries and was suddenly startled.

"Master? What master?"

Mo Hua frowned.

"It can't be...that young master of the Kong family."

Thanks to Uncle Yan and Dark Night Star Morning for the reward~