Guide to the Empress becoming a God

"What did you say?
The farmer spoke, but he was in the painting, but he walked towards Wu Xian step by step.

The farmer's small black eyes stared straight at Wu Xian and asked, "No? You said I wouldn't do this? Then what do you say I should do?"

The questioning was full of malice, and the farmer threw the hoe he was holding to the side forcefully, as if asking for a crime.

The hoe happened to be thrown on the head of the child in the woman's arms, smashing half of the child's skull.

The breastfeeding woman raised her head and looked at the farmer.

The other people in the painting seemed to be able to hear Wu Xian's voice, and turned to him one by one slowly.

The eyes of those people were the same as those of the farmers, full of evil questioning and scrutiny.

When those people in the painting cast their eyes on Wu Xian, Wu Xian was surprised to find that the blurred faces gradually became clearer.

The nursing woman stood up suddenly, and at this moment she seemed to have forgotten that she still had a baby in her arms.

When she got up, she let go of her hand, and the baby's skeleton in her arms immediately rolled out of her arms to the ground, falling into a messy pile of white bones.

The woman picked up the farmer's hoe, swung it hard at the farmer's head, and cursed: "You killed my child, and I will kill you!"

The farmer's head was blown off by the woman's hoe, and his body fell to the ground.

This is like a plot in a nonsensical movie, but in Wu Xian's eyes, it makes him feel extremely real.

He seems to know in his heart that this world is so chaotic and cruel.

He is in great pain, but all he can do now is to watch all this happening in front of his eyes in more pain and be helpless.

The farmer's body collided with a person walking towards Wu Xian, and that person immediately fought with the woman again...

In the blink of an eye, many corpses were trampled under these people's feet.

Wu Xian was horrified to find that these people were desperate as long as they started.

Even if it's just for a trivial matter, he would risk his life to fight with others.

More and more people died, and the bodies were trampled into bloody mud by those fighting.

The wide-open eyes were full of resentment or unwillingness, and in a blink of an eye someone's feet trampled that head into the filthy black mud.

Even those children who did not participate in the war brandished sticks to beat the corpses that had turned into pulp.

Wu Xian cried, his heart was filled with boundless despair.

He seems to have forgotten that he is a monk, and he feels sorry for these people who have completely lost their minds and are fighting each other frantically.

But the next moment, he bent down, picked up a half-missed kitchen knife on the ground, and walked towards the fighting people step by step...

"Zheng-"

Qingyue's sword cry rang out from Wu Xian's mind.

It was as if something in Wu Xian's brain was cut off instantly by the sound of the sword, the Baihui acupoint on the top of his head was piercingly painful, and it hurt along the Dazhui all the way to the soles of his feet.

The severe pain ran through his body, Wu Xian swayed violently, and the world in front of him began to change.

The dark and dry tomb room is surrounded by Yueya and Jiange, as well as his brothers from his own sect.

The warm light of the torch flickered in the tomb, illuminating the murals on the wall.

Wu Xian found that his monk's uniform was completely soaked in sweat, sticking sticky to his skin, which was extremely uncomfortable.

Since he started practicing, he can't remember how many years he hasn't sweated so much.

But Wu Xian couldn't care less about the uncomfortable clothes, his eyes searched eagerly on the wall.

Then he found the farmer and the woman among the many people in the mural.

Farmers are still digging the lifeless mud with hoes.

The woman is still breastfeeding the baby who has become a dry bone.

Nothing in the painting seemed to have changed.

But Wu Xian's mood has changed.

He felt that just now he was actually standing in the middle of them.

Even through the murals at this moment, he can still feel their boundless despair and suffering.

Wu Xian's eyes were wet again, at this moment, a hand was stretched out in front of him, and there was a pill in the palm.

Wu Xian's red eyes left the mural and looked at the owner of this hand.

Yueya looked kindly: "Take this elixir, take a rest, and don't look at these murals."

After finishing speaking, she left the elixir to Wu Xian and walked to the next disciple.

It was only then that Wu Xian realized that the other disciples were either standing or squatting, some were in great pain, some were hysterical.

Everyone's situation is different, but the pain is the same.

A sharp sword intent hung above Yu Xinzhu's head.

When she passed by every disciple, that pure Xiao Sha's sword intent passed through the center of that disciple's head.

Then the disciple quickly woke up as if awakened from a dream.

Wu Xian remembered that he had heard a sword cry before he woke up.

It turned out that they were all haunted by the illusion on the mural.

The disciple who had taken the elixir quickly recovered and did not sink into the illusion again.

Yu Xinzhu finally came to Yanyan's body, but she didn't use her sword intent to cut Yanyan's consciousness.

Wu Xian was a little surprised.

He heard from his master that the suzerain had already aspired to become a god.

But even the small pavilion master of the Jiange Pavilion is fine, so why is the suzerain of the God Transformation Realm haunted by the murals?
Wu Xian was a little worried, and walked up to Yueya and asked in a low voice: "Senior Yue, why didn't the little pavilion master wake up the suzerain?"

Yueya smiled and asked back: "Didn't you see that your suzerain is different from others?"

When Yueya mentioned it, Wu Xiancai went to look carefully at his suzerain.

I saw Yanyan sitting cross-legged on the ground, the torch that couldn't be burned out was inserted squarely in front of her body.

Yanyan's eyes were slightly closed, her expression was peaceful, one hand rested casually on her lap, and the other twisted a simple tactic.

This tactic is very familiar to Wu Xian, it is the meditation tactic in the introductory exercises.

Wu Xian was surprised: "Did the suzerain take the initiative to enter the mural illusion?"

Yan Yan's posture was obviously prepared in advance.

"Who will go to hell if she doesn't go to hell? Isn't your suzerain always like this!"

When Yu Xinzhu spoke, he rolled Yan Yan's eyes and turned his face to the side, obviously out of anger.

Wu Xian closed his mouth knowingly.

But everyone knew that it was impossible for Yu Xinzhu to be really angry with Yanyan.

Because Yanyan is always taking risks like this, she is too worried but there is nothing she can do about it.

Although Yu Xinzhu's mouth was stiff, the sword intent on her forehead did not restrain herself.

With that strong sword intent, she followed Yan Yan's example, thrusting the torch forward, and sat cross-legged beside her.

This is the preparation to wake up Yanyan at any time.

Yanyan's expression was always calm, and it seemed that the illusion she experienced was different from what Wu Xian and the others experienced.

In fact, the illusion that Yanyan was in was exactly the same as that of Wu Xian and the others.

The difference between Yan Yan and Wu Xian and the others is that Wu Xian and the others don't know that they are in an illusion, which causes their spirit to empathize with the situation in the illusion.

Yan Yan always knew that she was in an illusion.

Going through the famine was a great temper for Yan Yan's character.

Huang is the top illusion monster in the entire Eastern Continent. Yan Yan has shuttled back and forth in its illusion many times, and was tossed to death by the illusions of the past and the future in the deserted land.

After that battle, in Yanyan's eyes, any illusion is like playing tricks.

If I don't say anything, I will just watch you act, whether you break it or not depends on your mood.