Journey to the West, one of the fist saints

Chapter 162 Zhu Ziguo

Everyone walked through this mountainous area, and there was a foul smell coming from the pavement ahead.

"vomit……"

Zhu Bajie made a retching sound, and directly sealed the long nose with magic.

Sometimes a keen sense of smell is also a very painful thing!
After all, Zhu Bajie's long nose is not a decoration, his sense of smell is far superior to that of ordinary people. The rotten persimmons accumulated in the persimmons for many years, the persimmon mud has deteriorated in the hot summer, and swarms of flies hovering above.

Xuanzang released a spell shield to block out the breath of the outside world. After sweeping the persimmons hundreds of miles away with his spiritual consciousness to ensure that there were no living people inside, he then used his mana to destroy the rotting persimmons hundreds of miles away that were as large as mountains. The persimmon mud was moved to a basin, and then a fairy fire full of destructive aura was released, directly burning all the accumulated persimmon mud into ashes.

The persimmons that had plagued Tuoluo Village for hundreds of years disappeared like this, and Xuanzang used the method of calling the rain to wash the entire canyon once again.

When the smell dissipated, everyone continued on the road.

……

After traveling on the official road for several days, the master and apprentice came to Zhu Ziguo.

Zhu Ziguo is a powerful country hundreds of miles away, with many cities and gate towers everywhere, and the road that runs parallel to the eight horses in the capital leads directly to the imperial palace.

Pedestrians on the street rubbed shoulders, shouting endlessly, porters and street vendors added a lot of life to this land, and on the other hand, it also highlighted the country's commercial development and national strength.

People's dress is somewhat different from that in the Central Plains. Most people in the Central Plains value silk, but here it is another kind of mulberry hemp material, which is soft but not as smooth as silk.

Xuanzang had known for a long time that the king of this place was ill. A few years ago, he choked on a rice dumpling, and the silt kept accumulating.

About three years ago, Avalokitesvara's horse, Golden Retriever, roared to the lower world as a demon, and wanted to find a lady who pressed the cave. When he came to Zhu Ziguo's palace and saw Jinsheng Palace, he felt evil and wanted to snatch it.

Although Zhu Ziguo was not a big country in the Central Plains, it was suppressed by human luck. Although Jin Maohou didn't dare to take it by force, he used some means to force the monarch to hand over his concubine voluntarily.

He threatened that if he didn't pay, he would eat the king first, then all the ministers, and then kill all the people in the city.

Under this kind of threat, on the one hand are the common people all over the city, and on the other hand is his beloved Jinsheng Palace, the monarch of Zhuzi Kingdom made an extremely difficult choice.

For the sake of the people of the world, the monarch cruelly pushed Jinsheng Palace out of the Hailiu Pavilion, and let the golden retriever be caught.

He was a good king, but not a good husband.

Because of this, because he was frightened by the monster and choked his appetite by the zongzi that was in his mouth that day, he could not go up or down, coupled with his heart disease and worry, he often dreamed of Jinsheng Palace crying for help, but he had no choice but to Worrying and thinking constantly every night, the body is getting weaker day by day.

I have sought out many good doctors and masters, but there is nothing they can do about this disease. At this time, it has reached the critical stage, and there is a possibility of going west at any time.

The king was critically ill, and the customs clearance document was naturally suppressed by the consortium. Xuanzang planned to enter the palace to cure the king's illness, and then talk about other things.

Inside Zhu Ziguo's palace.

On the big bed carved with dragons and phoenixes, a thin middle-aged man with blank eyes was lying down, coughing from time to time.

Despite this, he still insisted on listening to the reports from the ministers below, and commented on the memorials one by one.

"Your Majesty, there are monks from Dongtu Great Tang outside the hall. Please see Your Majesty, do you want to summon them?" A minister in black bowed and asked, looking at the big bed, showing concern.

He could see that the monarch's health was getting worse and worse, and he might not last for a few days!

The king has no son, if there is no edict to pass on the throne, it will definitely cause chaos in the world!

"Ahem, a monk from the east? I'm gone now. This body of the widow is just a joke for the people of the heavens..." There was a faint sadness in the old voice.

Heroes are late!
The minister in black persisted in making the pilgrimage to the wat, bowed once, and then withdrew.

"The monk from the east, your majesty is not in good health, and you don't see any outsiders!"

"Amitabha, the poor monk has already learned that the monarch is seriously ill, and he has a prescription for healing. He wants to enter the palace to see a doctor for the monarch!"

"Is this true? The people in Tai Hospital are helpless, how can you, a monk, do it?"

"Since it is critically ill, why not let the poor monk have a try? Maybe the cure will be right for you!"

"Master, wait a moment, I'll go and ask what your majesty means!"

The minister in black quickly returned to the main hall, walked out of the hall after a while, and then waved: "Master, please come in, I hope you can cure our lord's strange disease!"

When Xuanzang entered the palace, he immediately smelled a pungent smell of herbal medicine. It seems that the monarchs of Zhuzi Kingdom did not stop taking medicine these years, and the disease was not cured.

"Amitabha, the poor monk Xuanzang has met your lord!" Xuanzang entered the door, clasped his hands together and bowed, and through the beaded curtain, he could vaguely see the figure in the yellow robe on the big bed.

"The monk is not polite, I heard that Ai Qing said that you can heal the disease?"

A weak voice came from within the bead curtain.

"Back to your majesty, the poor monk knows a little bit about the art of Qihuang, if your majesty trusts you, let the poor monk have a try!"

"The widow is exhausted and cannot see outsiders. Can the monk consult a doctor?"

"It's okay, the poor monk has the ability to cut the thread and cut the pulse, so please extend your palm!"

"Oh? And this kind of thaumaturgy? Ahem..."

The monarch stretched out his palm and stuck out the big bed, looking extremely skinny, like chicken feet.

Xuanzang sat at the table, stretched out his hand, and a silk thread flew out from his sleeve, directly tied to the palm of that hand.

"Bold! You are being rude to your majesty!"

Seeing this, the guards at the side thought that Xuanzang wanted to harm the monarch, so they drew out their waist knives.

"You are not allowed to be rude to that monk. This is the technique of cutting the thread and cutting the pulse. Step back quickly!" An old man in Tsing Yi came out from the side hall holding a medicine pot, and looked at Xuanzang with burning eyes. The method of cutting the pulse has long been lost, I never thought that the old man could see it again in a monk, maybe, the king’s illness can really be cured..."

Xuanzang closed his eyes, flicked his fingers lightly, as if playing a piano, fiddled with the silk thread non-stop.

The old man in green was engrossed in observing, as if he wanted to understand the principle, but Xuanzang would not know what to do, he is just playing around, pretending to ask for a doctor.

Monkey King saw Mingtang, and a faint smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

Xiong Likui was surprised, the master still understands such mortal medical skills, he is really knowledgeable.

Xuanzang frowned, as if he had discovered something, he asked aloud, "Your Majesty, you have a poor appetite?"

"Your Majesty really doesn't have much appetite, and he vomits whenever he eats, so he can only use some soup to satisfy his hunger!" The old man in Tsing Yi seemed to know that the King could not talk too much, so he answered for him. The King lay on the bed, and He didn't blame the old man in Tsing Yi for interrupting.

"Ugh……"

(End of this chapter)