Chapter 68: The wind calls Jiulang, the mortal world destroys the old friend - "749 Game of the Taoist Coming Down the Mountain"

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Magic City, late autumn.

In the narrow and deep old alley, the damp bluestone slabs are covered with dark green moss, and the evening wind carries broken sycamore leaves, rustling and sliding against the ground.Deep in the alley hangs a faded wooden divination tablet with its corners worn and blackened. There are only four words engraved on it: Jiulang Divination.

There were no lights on in Gua Pu, and the room was dim and dark. Only a ray of pale moonlight penetrated the dilapidated wooden window and fell slantingly on an old wooden table.

Hu Jiulang sat on a wooden chair, holding a badly worn copper coin between his fingertips. The cold copper coin was rubbed repeatedly between his fingers.

There was a brass incense burner that had been extinguished long ago on the table. The incense ashes in the burner were cold and there was no trace of smoke.Lying quietly next to it was a dark red amulet. The texture of the paper was dark, the corners were broken, and a faint white aura remained on the surface.

This is the only thing Yang Tong left in the world.

Three days have passed since the battle in Taoyuan Ancient Town ended.

For three days, the weather in the Magic City was gloomy and there was no daylight. Just like Hu Jiulang's state of mind at the moment, there was deathly silence and no light.

That day, the body-refining furnace collapsed, Xia Lai fell into the trap, the blood curse of the evil cult was broken, and all the dust settled.But everyone survived, except for the woman in a neat uniform with cold and stubborn eyebrows who disappeared into the spiritual energy in the sky.

Yang Tong is gone.

There were no bones, no relics, and not even a trace of residual breath. They were all torn apart by the fluctuations of the barrier that day.Only this personal amulet, under the backlash of Leng Xin's life-for-life poison, could barely retain a fragment of his spiritual thoughts.

"Kuro."

Soft and ethereal, as if separated by a thick layer of mist, or like a whisper against the ear.

The sound sounded suddenly, ethereal and unreal, without any trace of human smoke.

Hu Jiulang's fingers stroking the copper coins suddenly froze, and the stagnant air around him seemed to be completely frozen at this moment.He slowly raised his head, his dark eyes were lightless and bloodshot, and there was an inexorable sense of death and exhaustion in his eyes.

There were no pedestrians in the alley, the evening breeze stopped suddenly, and even the fallen dead leaves hung in the air.

In the empty room, there was only that reverberation that echoed repeatedly.

"Kuroro..."

There was another call, gentle and affectionate, with a trace of imperceptible reluctance.

Hu Jiulang's Adam's apple rolled, and his dry throat could not make any sound.He had obviously seen through numerology, understood the cycle of yin and yang, and knew that all fate in the world had a certain destiny, but this time, he was unwilling to accept it, and he was unwilling to accept his fate.

He slowly raised his eyes, looked at the dark roof beams, and spoke in a low voice, his voice hoarse and broken: "Yang Tong?"

No one answered.

The illusory voice suddenly shattered like a bubble and dissipated in the cool air, leaving no trace.

The room fell into dead silence again, eerily quiet.

Hu Jiulang raised his hand and gently touched the broken amulet with his fingertips.The moment the fingertips fell, the remaining white light on the amulet suddenly went out, becoming completely dim.

The spiritual thoughts are gone, and the last thought is gone.

He lowered his eyes silently, and in the depths of his dark pupils, the last bit of warmth slowly faded away.

Outside the house, the night wind roared again, picking up dead leaves all over the ground and slamming against the old wooden windows, making a dull banging sound, as if mourning for the deceased.

Squeak——

The wooden door of Guapu was gently pushed open, and a thin young figure poked his head out.The young man has clean facial features and full of energy. He is Qian Mo who has been following Hu Jiulang doing miscellaneous things and learning hexagrams.

Qian Mo carefully walked into the house with a bowl of warm soup. He looked at Hu Jiulang, who was sitting still with a coldness all over his body, his eyes full of worry.In the past few days, he had never seen his master smile once. He sat in a daze all day long, as if he had lost his soul.

"Master, let's have some soup." Qian Mo gently placed the soup bowl on the corner of the wooden table, speaking very softly, for fear of disturbing the man in front of him, "I cooked it according to the method you taught me before, to ward off the cold and warm the stomach."

Hu Jiulang did not raise his head, his eyes always fell on the amulet, and his tone was calm, without any emotion: "No need."

"Master, you haven't eaten for three days." Qian Mo pursed his lips, his eyes were stubborn, with the stubbornness of a young man, "People are like rice and steel. Even those who are cultivators cannot waste their bodies like this. If Miss Yang Tong is still here, she doesn't want to see you like this."

At the mention of Yang Tong, the room suddenly became cold.

Hu Jiulang slowly raised his eyes, his dark eyes were bone-piercingly cold, and the cold and evil aura belonging to a Taoist priest filled the air without reservation.Qian Mo stiffened and subconsciously took half a step back, feeling a trace of fear in his heart.

But he did not flinch. He still straightened his back and looked at Hu Jiulang stubbornly.

After a while, Hu Jiulang restrained his evil aura, lowered his eyes again, and said in an indifferent tone, "I'm leaving."

Qian Mo was stunned and asked blankly: "Let's go? Where to go? What to do with our Gua Pu?"

"Go back to the mountain."

These two simple words, the moment they fell, seemed to cut off all the worldly ties here.

Hu Jiulang raised his hand and put all the amulets on the table, several stacks of cinnabar talismans, and an old compass into a black cloth bag.He moved slowly and methodically, and every movement was crisp and neat, without any sloppiness.

The hexagram tools that once were used to make a living in the alleys of the magical city are now being collected one by one, as if they are burying this mundane world with their own hands.

"Back to Longhu Mountain?" Qian Mo reacted instantly, his eyes suddenly turned red, "Then... what about me? Master, I am your disciple, I will follow you back to the mountain."

"You stay."

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