Supreme Immortal Demon

The cold autumn wind blew a circle of ripples on the Rouge River.

Tang State, Baiyujing.

The busiest Dongguan Street was bustling with people as usual, and the restaurants and teahouses were full of people, mostly civilians.

Nowadays, Tang State is no longer the small country it used to be. With the frequent emergence of cultivation talents, especially the two top geniuses who were once famous, more and more sects and cultivation families began to turn their attention to Tang State, and held the Immortal Seedling Selection Conference every year.

In just a few years, Tang State has become a leader among medium-sized countries. As long as it continues to develop at this pace, it will become a large country in more than a hundred years.

Therefore, in the streets and alleys, restaurants and teahouses of Baiyujing, the mysterious figures of immortals can often be seen. From the initial fanatical curiosity, men, women, old and young in Baiyujing have become accustomed to it and started to treat it with a normal mind.

There are only two days left before this year's Immortal Seedling Selection Conference, and cultivators from all walks of life have also come in droves and appeared in Baiyujing.

In an old teahouse in the back of Dongguan Street.

On the Grand Viewing Platform, a tall and thin old man, wearing a clean and wrinkled black robe, was reading a book with a beaming face.

"Five years ago, in the fairyland of the southern region of our Great Tian, ​​a holy land was broken and officially opened. That holy land was called Qingchuan Jedi! In a short time, immortals from all directions, real people from all directions, from home and abroad, all went to Qingchuan to compete for that opportunity. At this time, another earth-shaking event happened... Ahem, that's all for today. If you want to know what happened next, please listen to the next chapter!"

The old man's voice stopped abruptly, and he picked up the tea bowl and drank it in big gulps.

Just when he heard that the excitement was gone, the audience in the audience was unhappy. Some complained and some slammed the table.

"Old Ji! That's not right! You always use this trick! Do you believe that I will never come to listen again after today!"

"Yes! Old Ji, be kind! You always stop at the critical moment! You are too good at keeping people on edge!"

"Go on, what happened in the fairy world? I don't have the patience to wait another day!"

"Believe it or not, I will tear down your shop!"

No matter how the listeners make a fuss, the storyteller always smiles. Smile without saying anything.

The noisy listeners are almost all martial artists from Baiyujing, with cultivation levels ranging from the Great Dan Realm to the Great Kongling Realm. In addition, there are also masters at the half-step Sanren level. In the elegant seats of the teahouse, you can see Taoist robes and monks with a deep aura sitting in the teahouse. Together with mortals, drinking inferior tea and listening to mortal storytelling.

For all kinds of monks, listening to storytelling is a new thing, and this teahouse, whether in the martial arts circle or the monk circle of the Tang Kingdom. They are all quite famous.

Because the storyteller in the teahouse, who didn't know where he got the information, actually knew some major events that happened in the cultivation world. And he used the tone of the mortal world to describe the cultivation world, whether it was civilians, warriors or monks, they all liked to listen.

"Another paragraph."

At this time, a cold voice came from the private room on the third floor.

The moment the voice sounded. All the sounds in the teahouse seemed to be covered by a hood and disappeared instantly.

The civilians and warriors sitting in the hall on the first floor all changed their colors. How could they not know that the one who spoke was a high-ranking immortal.

And the monks in the private seats on the second and third floors also looked up.

Through the curtains of the private room, the monks saw several looming figures, and their eyes fell on the leader, and the monks all showed awe.

The cultivation level of that monk was as high as the first level of Nascent Soul.

The cultivation level is secondary. The key is his waist card, which has three golden characters on it: Tianhua Palace!

Although five years ago, in the trial of the White Bone Prison Hall, which is still unforgettable to many people, Tianhua Palace lost a group of outstanding disciples and more than ten overseas elders, and almost became a laughing stock. But with the opening of the Love River. Tianhua Palace took the lead and joined forces with overseas monks. It quickly recovered its vitality and still sat firmly on the throne of the first in Tiannan, and had the potential to swallow up another major sect, the Empty Mountain Realm.

This Tianhua Palace monk was no stranger to everyone present. His surname was Qiu and his name was Wu. He was one of the few survivors of the White Bone Prison Hall trial that year. Later, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise and was cultivated by Tianhua Palace. In five years, he broke through from the fourth level of the True Dan to the first level of the Infant, and became a deacon elder in the outer hall.

Nowadays, in Baiyujing, the people who really preside over the overall situation behind the scenes are Qiu Wu and his other Tianhua Palace elder who is the third level of the Infant.

"Two junior sisters, I don't know what you want to hear." Qiu Wu smiled faintly and asked the woman beside him.

"It doesn't matter. The tea here is smelly and unpalatable. Senior brother, let's go back early." A green-clothed female Taoist said coldly.

"Haha, Senior sister, you are wrong. Although the tea is unpalatable, the storyteller's jokes are quite interesting. Why not listen to another one?" Another red-clothed female Taoist chuckled.

The two female Taoists secretly exchanged a glance. On the surface, it seemed nothing, but secretly they were jealous.

Qiu Wu saw all this and laughed dumbly: "Don't argue. Just listen to the last one, which is also the one I like the most. I must listen to it every time I come here."

"What is that?" The two female Taoists asked in unison.

Qiu Wu's eyes flashed with coldness, and he didn't know whether he was hateful or proud. He lowered his head and looked at the storyteller who was packing up his things: "Stop. Tell me another one... the death of Master Luo."

The three words of Master Luo came out, and the teahouse suddenly became quiet.

Some older monks and warriors had complicated expressions, while the fledgling Foundation-Building monks all showed curiosity. Apparently they had not heard of the name Master Luo.

After a brief silence, the young monks asked the older monks beside them.

"Does this immortal really want to listen?" The storyteller slowly stopped his movements, raised his head, and looked at Yajian.

"Of course. If you say it well, I will give you a Qing Dan." Qiu Wu said calmly.

The storyteller sighed lightly and did not leave in a hurry. He paced on the grand viewing platform, brewing his emotions.

"Luochuan of the Tang Dynasty was originally just a concubine of the Luo family's second house. When he first became famous, he was only fifteen years old. He was in another fairyland below the Tang Dynasty, Yinchuan Wuhua City..."

In the mellow voice of the old storyteller, everyone in the teahouse gradually became immersed in a legendary story about the rise of a young man.

Some of the monks who experienced the rise of Luochuan five years ago showed nostalgia. Some looked scared. The young monks who had just entered Taoism opened their mouths in surprise. Firstly, it was because Luo Chuan's story was too unbelievable. Secondly, they had entered the world of cultivation, but in the past year and a half, they had heard of many things. Many legendary figures in the spiritual world. But I have never heard of such a person as Master Luo.

"Master Luo likes to wear a white cloth robe, which is also his symbol."

"He has a wide range of friends. His two most famous friends are the Langxin Sword Immortal Zhou Buchen and the Marquis of Diming Ning Tianxing, including the one-armed Xuanzun Lu Daoran and the Kongzen Taoist Kongsi Monk. They have also received favors from him. "

"At the highest point, Master Luo once topped the list of green immortals. And half of the six Taoist monks in the past died at his hands."

"Five years ago, someone in the cultivation world once said that if Master Luo was still here, his strength might have reached the level of the Fourth Path Young Master."

The young sect disciples were stunned when they heard this. His face was filled with disbelief.

It was hard for them to imagine that such a terrifying figure would exist in the Tiannan cultivation world five years ago.

He was friends with Zhou Buchen and Ning Tian, ​​and Lu Daoran and Monk Kongsi were all favored by him. A monk at the level of Sidao Shaojun... was simply sensational!

However, five years later, this person's name has completely fallen silent, at least they have never heard of it again.

How could such a character die? And why haven't you heard of him?

A fifteen-year-old Foundation Establishment monk quietly asked the Taoist next to him: "Master, is everything that the storyteller said true? Why have my disciples never heard of it?"

The monks in the true elixir realm were silent, not knowing what they were remembering. After a long while, he said: "Mingjing, you also heard what the storyteller said. Master Luo was born in the Kongshan Mountain Realm, and he has repeatedly challenged the authority of Tianhua Palace. In recent years, the Kongshan Mountain Realm has been in a state of decline. It is barely surviving under the Tianhua Palace's offensive. His last breath. To this day, no one except the monks of Tianhua Palace dares to mention Master Luo. As time goes by, no one mentions him anymore, and his name and legend have gradually withdrawn from the Tiannan cultivation world. The stage.”

"That's right. The disciple is stupid." The young monk named Ming Jing showed deep admiration and envy in his eyes, and murmured in a low voice: "It turns out that such a person really exists in Tiannan Territory. He was only fifteen years old when he became famous. He is also from the Tang Dynasty, so awesome! If he were still alive now, I wonder if the people in the Kongku Mountain Realm would be better..."

Before Ming Jing finished speaking, panic flashed in the monk's eyes and he felt something bad.

"snort."

A cold snort came from the private room on the third floor, like the sound of thunder, echoing in the ears of master and disciple Ming Jing.

The master and the apprentice spurted out blood at the same time. They were shocked and frightened, and neither dared to speak anymore.

"So what if he is alive, huh, not to mention, he is already dead. Storyteller, you continue talking. Just talk about the last part!" A trace of hatred flashed in Qiu Wu's eyes.

Five years ago, he was one of the few survivors in Tianhua Palace.

But even today, he has been promoted to the deacon and elder of the outer gate of Tianhua Palace, but he still cannot overcome the shadow of five years ago.

Many details of the battle in the Bone Celestial Prison Palace have been concealed, but only the survivors know how terrifying Master Luo was back then.

However, the best way to overcome the shadow is to get close to it. Qiu Wu volunteered to come to Tang State with this plan.

Awed by Qiu Wu's power, the monks in the teahouse all fell silent and sat downright, motionless. No one dared to speak out anymore.

With red eyes, Ming Jing took the Huiyuan Pill from her master, wiping her tears while taking the Pill of Luck.

"Master, right..."

Before Ming Jing could finish speaking, the master smiled helplessly and stopped him with his eyes.

Ming Jing felt aggrieved and angry.

Although he was a newborn calf and was not afraid of tigers, he also knew that even the leader of his sect would have no choice but to stay away from the Tianhua Palace monks in the private room on the third floor.

Ming Jing clenched his fists unwillingly, bit his lips, and turned his head, not wanting Master to see his tears.

At this moment, his eyes fell to the door and he was slightly stunned.

In the autumn afternoon, the breeze blows, and the plain white cloth robe rolls across the threshold of the teahouse.

A monk in cloth robes, nine feet tall, walked slowly into the teahouse. His face was very young, but his eyes showed vicissitudes that were not for his age.

——

(I have to catch a long distance in the afternoon, so I’m a little late, sorry)