Different births, different seeing, different encounters, and different pursuits.

  Life is different.

Fang Heling often thinks of those people drinking and laughing.

 He actually wanted to join in.

 I want to be like them, heroic and indulgent.

 But he was never the same as them.

The so-called "Five Heroes of Maple Grove" is such a ridiculous name in the world.

 Not impressive at all, very clumsy.

Even in Maple Grove City, you can't reach the extraordinary level. No monk will even take a look.

But how loud it is among the outer disciples of Maplewood City Taoist Academy.

 In the eyes of someone like him who really wanted to enter the Taoist Temple, it was simply a legend.

 The five most outstanding outer sect disciples share the same spirit and become brothers of life and death. They travel together through mountains and rivers, and perform chivalrous acts of justice. Perhaps in the future, they will also wield Qing Ming's sword together.

 How he wanted to be a part of it.

He also imagined the majesty of drawing his sword, traveling thousands of miles, cutting off the enemy's head and then returning. He wanted to drink wine and sing to his heart's content with his brothers.

 But in this life, it is no longer possible.

All the people who later changed beyond recognition were not willing to change in the first place!

Blood.

 The blood is such a vivid and painful color.

 I don’t know when it started. Everything I saw was covered in blood.

 No, that’s not right.

 This world is inherently bloody.

 No, that’s not right...

 You clearly remember when it started...

So why be vague?

 Why should we forget?

 Why are you so cowardly?

 Why are you so weak despite working so hard?

 There were bursts of severe pain in my heart. It was like ants crawling, like a knife cutting, or like a burning fire.

The non-stop pain made Fang Heling want to fall down, curl up on the ground, and hug herself.

 But he just stood silently, expressionless.

 In front of him was a high cliff, and on the high cliff there was a strong pine tree with deep roots.

 There is a man hanging on the pine tree.

 His hands were tied together and hung above his head.

The rope is blood-colored, and the other end of the rope is embedded in the branches, as if it is symbiotic with the branches.

This man's feet were also tied together, and the bloody rope was wrapped around several times and met behind him, like two bloody snakes, suddenly stretched straight and nailed into the high cliff.

This person was frozen in the air like this. His teeth were clenched, his eyes were wide open, his eyeballs were bulging, and the veins on his forehead popped out.

 This place is actually very quiet at this time, only the wind is blowing.

Fang Heling, who was standing silently, stretched out his right hand, penetrated the chest of the man in front of him, and pinched his heart.

 The magical power of hatred, conveying hatred with hatred, and questioning the heart with heart.

 Use pain to intensify pain.

The tortured, painful person in front of him has no idea that his tormentor is in more pain than he is.

Of course even knowing it would not help alleviate anything.

Fang Heling has long been accustomed to this level of pain, silently chewing on the message from this heart.

Most of them are useless, and there are only one or two scattered clues that can be captured. It is like finding crickets in the grass when you were a child. It is easier than asking the other party to speak.

“Wu Sheng Jiao Yue Rabbit, is it the rabbit face from the previous Twelve Bone Noodles..."

Fang Heling murmured to himself.

His hands slowly clenched, and the heart was slowly crushed.

 The eyes of the hanging man are still wide open, but the divine light has dissipated.

His physical body has died, and his soul may have just dissipated, or he may have gone to the so-called inanimate world... Who knows?

Fang Heling took out his hand and flicked it gently, and all the blood on his hand splashed out, falling on the high cliff in a graceful trajectory.

He is not suitable for the magical power of hatred, and he even has no talent for acquiring magical powers at all.

 Bai Gu Dao's blood-returning elixir has already destroyed his foundation even though his foundation is basically mediocre.

 He was accidentally picked up in a dying state.

 He was rebuilt after his veins were destroyed.

The blood-red mansion in the Wufu Sea was built by great power.

 His magical power of hatred is a living implant in his body.

 He is not suitable.

 The first demon has already concluded that he is not suitable.

 But what is he suitable for?

 He is too mediocre, too useless, too much of a waste.

Even Yan Chunhui, who is at the pinnacle of the extraordinary, doesn’t know what he is suitable for!

Then he can only hold on to the magical power of hatred.

 This is his only choice.

In the name of hatred, it is not a way to become stronger, nor is it a terrible perseverance, let alone will.

It's just the only hope in this lingering life.

 The only hope of personal revenge.

 So he can only do this.

 This is the only way to go.

 Although every time I use the magical power of hatred, I still suffer from the magical power.

 It's like the magical seed itself has spirituality and is unwilling to be controlled by a waste like him.

 Although the cost of using this magical power was so painful that he wanted to commit suicide.

He wanted to give up countless times, to collapse on the ground, to cry bitterly.

 But he didn't.

　In this world, no one will tell him the truth anymore, no one will hold his head and say to him, "Then prove it to me, my son."

 No one cares about his tears.

 Being strong starts from not being weak anymore.

 He no longer lives to prove to anyone.

 “The teaching of no life…the teaching of no life.”

 He chewed the term over and over again.

This sect has developed in Yong, Jiao, and Luo countries. It seems to have first gained momentum during the war between Zhuang and Yong.

 Developed rapidly with the help of the huge suffering caused by the war.

“War, death, resentment...” Fang Heling murmured.

This sect is almost of the same origin as the White Bone Taoist, but they do not believe in the White Bone Evil God. Instead, they believe in the Wusheng Cult Ancestor who is a god, a Taoist, and a leader.

 The God Lord is their god, the Taoist Lord is their ideal, and the Hierophant is their leader.

 At this point, it is completely different from other cults.

 From the White Bone Path to the Wusheng Sect, that Moon Rabbit must know something...

Fang Heling thought so.

 But he was also very clear about it.
To be continued...