Eliminate Demons in Lin Zhengying's World

"Then let's go to the attic for a walk!" Ye Fan said with a half-smile.

The grass dweller naturally had no objection: "Then I'll go to the attic for a stroll."

"The two distinguished guests come with me."

The house slave in Tsing Yi was still leading the way with a lantern. A few minutes later, a group of people arrived at the stairs of the attic.

"Ye Zhenjun must have been here many times, right?" Tsing Yi's servant said calmly.

Ye Fan didn't bother to pay attention to the other party, he walked up to the attic quickly, and the grass dweller also hurriedly followed.

Standing on the attic, overlooking the distance, the outline of the cemetery can be seen faintly.

The reason why it is faintly visible is because for some reason, the cemetery is filled with thick fog.

The team escorting the coffin walked slowly into the cemetery, and all those escorting the coffin showed vigilance.

The Caolu layman and Ye Fan frowned, and suddenly a fearful voice sounded beside them: "It's about to start."

Ye Fan glanced, put down the terrified servant in Tsing Yi, and raised his hand tremblingly to point at the cemetery amidst the dense atmosphere.

I saw that the funeral procession stepped into the area of ​​the cemetery, and the richness instantly turned black, as if ink dripped into the clear water, polluting the clear water in an instant.

With a flick of a finger, the thick white mist turned into a strange black mist as black as ink.

The black mist surged, as if something was stirring the situation.

Even if Ye Fan used Lihuo Golden Eyes, it was difficult to see through it.

The layman in thatched cottage opened his heavenly eyes, which are not as good as Lihuo's golden pupils, so naturally they can't see clearly.

The house slave in Tsing Yi probably thought of something bad, his face was pale, beads of sweat covered his cheeks, and he was swaying all over his body.

"What's in the black mist?" Ye Fan asked unexpectedly.

The servant in Tsing Yi shook his head and said with a trembling voice: "I don't know, anyway, when the descendants of the direct line die, when they are buried, there will always be black mist. As the number of direct disciples dies increases, the black mist will become thicker."

"Is there such a strange thing?" The grass dweller clicked his tongue.

The servant in Tsing Yi was full of panic, his mouth was dry and he didn't speak.

"Have you experienced the black mist yourself?"

Looking at the black mist billowing in the cemetery in the distance, Ye Fan knocked sideways and said.

"Ah."

The house slave in Tsing Yi hid behind Ye Fan, shrunk his neck, clenched his fists tightly, his nails pierced his fleshy palms, dripping blood, but he didn't know it.

"At the beginning, I also escorted the coffin. Three hundred people escorted it. In the end, only less than ten people survived."

The more the slave in Tsing Yi talked, the more frightened he became. When it came to this point, no matter how much Ye Fan and the grass-house layman asked, they were unwilling to speak again.

In the cemetery, the black mist lasted for a stick of incense, and finally began to gradually dissipate.

To be precise, it wasn't that the black mist dissipated, but that the black mist began to fade and turned into white mist.

The white mist gradually dissipated with the breeze blowing, and finally disappeared without a trace.

However, the team escorting the coffin was reduced by more than half, leaving less than a third.

Even so, the slave in Tsing Yi still sighed: "Fortunately, Elder Qing Cang made a move, otherwise, I'm afraid they will all die in the black mist."

Ye Fan didn't frown, but stared at Zou Qingcang with burning eyes.

At this moment, the wrinkled Qing was extremely embarrassed, overflowing with tatters, stained with blood, and many wounds with deep bone visible on his body.

It can be seen that something terrifying appeared in the black mist before, and it fought against Zou Qingcang.

Chapter 1344 The grass hut is sad and indignant, this is the catastrophe!

Even if Zou Qingcang repelled the unknown terror, he was still seriously injured, and two-thirds of the funeral procession was still dead.

And two-thirds of the dead, whether it was a coincidence or not, were all domestic slaves.

The collateral disciples and direct descendants were unharmed, and Ye Fan had reason to suspect that Zou Qingcang did not manage the life and death of the house slave at all.

Thinking of this, Ye Fan glanced at the slave in Tsing Yi with pity.

In the cemetery, Zou Qingcang took the rest of the people and escorted the coffin to the earth pit that had already been dug.

Everyone carefully placed the coffins into the pits, and the next step was to seal the soil and erect the tombstone.

Seeing this, Ye Fan had no interest in watching it anymore, turned around and walked towards the stairs.

Suddenly, the grass dweller called Ye Fan: "Ye Zhenjun."

"What's the matter with the Taoist priest of the Caolu?" Ye Fan couldn't help asking when he saw that the Caolu looked dignified.

"I sensed the breath of the turtle, can you follow me to have a look?" said the grass dweller.

Ye Fan nodded, and followed the grassy dweller down the stairs.

Then, under the leadership of the grass dweller, they came to the hut where Xigui went last night.

When they came to the hut, the expressions of the two suddenly became serious.

Blood-stained pieces of clothes came into view, the thatched cottage dweller looked gloomy, and said in a hoarse voice: "It seems that something happened to the little turtle."