Pursuing Yue'er: Storm Surging

Decades ago, at the White Horse Temple in Luoyang, the sun shone brightly in the afternoon, causing the cicadas to be extremely sad. The rising heat waves caused the passersby to feel drowsy. In these three days, even cattle and horses had to shed a layer of skin, and the locust trees on both sides of the road were shorter by three points.

The temple was peaceful and quiet. In a side courtyard, there was sandalwood, tea set, and porcelain cups. The monk and blue-robed monk had completely forgotten about their surroundings. The waves of air outside assailed them as they battled back and forth on a board with a radius of three feet. There was a world of its own in the game of chess. The two of them were silent. The monk, Blackie, was playing chess in his hands. He thought hard and thought over and over again. Only when he saw the situation clearly did he finally settle his mind down to the chessboard. This time, it was this scholar who was thinking deeply about the other party's solution. Don't look at the alternating changes between the white and black chess pieces. Sometimes, when the game reached its official stage, it would usually be a situation where victory and defeat were decided half-way between the two. A son's attack and defense would determine the outcome of the situation.

After a long while, the gray-robed monk reminded: "It's your turn! Dao Friend Xiao. "

"I know!" The blue-robed scholar opened his lips. He was about forty years old and had white hair on his temples. He had a long beard. His nose was as tall as an eagle's eye, and his eyes were calm and sharp. They were like the tip of Dragon Spring's treasured sword — an unforgettable sight. This was also the truth. His name had already shaken the martial arts world, and his name was as famous as the Western Yue Hua Mountain.

Carrying his chin in his hand, Scholar Xiao's eyelids twitched unsteadily as if he had a bad premonition. When his martial arts had reached such a profound level, he had long since restrained his body with ease. Why was he so uneasy today? At this time, a thunderous cry came from outside the temple, and it became more ear-piercing in this quiet and peaceful temple.

Hearing this crying sound, Scholar Xiao sighed and said in a deep voice, "It seems that a guest has arrived. Today's game will end here." Let's go out and take a look. "

In front of the steps leading up to the White Horse Temple lay a middle-aged man. When the visitor checked, he was already dead. In front of him was the package of crying babies, unattended. It was obvious that this man had wandered into the Temple of Baima with a blood feud at the end of his life. He was grateful to the monks for their good fortune, but he had never thought that he would still be stuck in front of the temple.

The abandoned sons of the buddhist faith, dying in isolation, the good fortune of the heavens, how could they not save. However, this matter was too strange, and most people felt that this was an ominous sign of a bloody disaster. Within the temple, a young Shamil was benevolent. He held the poor baby in his arms and asked the gray-robed monk to take a look at the situation.

The gray-robed monk was the host of the White Horse Temple and was in charge of the Buddhist peace and quiet. He took it and looked at the child in his arms. His face was full of tears. Maybe you are hungry, but how can you be so pitiful? Where are your family? He could not help but feel pity for the Buddha. He recited a Buddhist mantra, "Amitabha! Buddha is merciful, this child is truly pitiful. " That little Shamei said softly, "Lord Fang, that man is already dead." The monk inside the temple became dejected upon hearing this.

"Bald ass!" He could only hear shouts and curses from ten meters away. Suddenly, a few fierce and burly men appeared in front of the White Horse Temple. A black clothed evil looking man menacingly said, "Let that child go, I'll let you live!"

"Amitabha!" The gray-robed monk recited the Buddhist chant again, veins popped on his forehead as he shouted, "How can I allow you to act so arrogantly in my White Horse Temple's quiet and quiet buddhist land? Benefactor, please wait for me to come back. "

The evil man in black seemed to have heard the joke and the group of people behind him laughed. He revealed a ferocious expression and said while gnashing his teeth: "You bunch of old bastards, I think you guys are too tired of living! Even our Luo Yang's Qi family hasn't heard of it. Today, I'll let you experience your grandfather's methods. "I want this land of the White Horse Temple, there's no need for you to leave!"

"Arrogant and shameless bastard!" Scholar Xiao stepped forward, turned around and said to the monks inside the temple, "Master is from the buddhist faith, heaven has its virtue. Don't let the blood of these scoundrels stain everyone's eyes. Let me handle this matter! "

The evil man looked down at everyone as if they were nothing in front of him. With a vicious look, he scolded, "Who are you? Do you know that this vile spawn can live beyond his means, and if he doesn't leave behind any future troubles, why would he meddle in other people's business? "Hurry up and f * ck off!"

Yet, he only saw the cold gaze of Scholar Xiao sweeping over him, causing him to tremble in fear. He said harshly, "Since you do not know how to appreciate favors, there is nothing you can say. Men, kill them all for me! " The large man behind him let out a strange cry and excitedly swarmed forward.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning descended from the sky, blinding everyone. This was the last scene that those wicked people would see before their deaths. They were suddenly shocked that such a first-class sword technique actually existed in this world. When the sword struck out, it instantly swept across the entire area like it was picking up grass or plants. Killing people was invisible; there wasn't even a drop of blood on the sword.

The monk in front of the temple was horrified as he witnessed this scene. He was still in a state of shock when he saw Daoist Xiao walk up to the baby and silently look at him. His cold gaze seemed to contain a bit of suspicion and killing intent. Suddenly he saw that there were traces of blood on the corner of the child's clothes. He took it off and saw that it was a handkerchief. Only after reading ten lines at a glance did he understand what exactly was going on. After pondering for a moment, Fang Zi said, "This child is a survivor of the Yuwen Clan. His name is Yuwen, Yi Chun."

"Good name, Buddha is merciful. This child was still so young, and yet he had suffered the annihilation of his clan. How unfortunate. May Buddha bless this child and keep him safe and healthy! " The gray-robed monk muttered.

"If you survive a great disaster, you will be blessed. Lord Buddha will definitely protect you. " Sage Xiao asserted.

Since then, from today on, the White Horse Temple has a bald head and big eyes small Shamei, the name of the magic "Siyuan." Every day, the morning bell and evening drum, cleaning the courtyard with the wind fall of the broken branches and leaves, idle water laundry stacked up to do homework. Every month, he would immerse himself in the scriptures of the Vajra Sutra of the Great Buddha, the Zhanyan Sutra, the Heart Sutra, the Six Ancestral Altar Sutra, and the Amitabha Sutra.

The world was filled with visitors, and life was only a few decades away. Little Shamei grew up year after year in the cold weather, as if she had suddenly turned into a cute child of seven or eight years old. Even the gray-robed monks of the White Horse Temple could still remember the scene of this child's birth.

In the days when the monks were used to it, they watched the people coming and going at the foot of the mountain in front of the oil lamps burning day and night, praying for their son's blessing to calculate their future. Gradually, Siyuan's subconscious became deeply confused. No one could answer him. Where did I come from and who were my parents? When his parents came to pick him up after hearing about his fellow senior brother returning back to normal, they couldn't help but have doubts. When the child's self-awareness began to awaken, the gray-robed monk's eyes were dim and unfathomable. The Temple of the White Horse was still too far away from the hustle and bustle of the secular world.

The gray-robed monk did not expect this child to be so intelligent and stubborn. He was certain that he would not give up and would pester him day in and day out. After rejecting him a few times, he was unwilling to part with him. Every day, he would follow behind him, not asking him whether he would stop or not.

"You are an orphan. I don't know who your parents are." The gray-robed monk helplessly told him.