Zombie: I made the immortal uncle Jiu by making clay figures

When Luochuan was looking at the fire, a doll suddenly appeared, which was very distinctive. Not to mention anything else, she originally had a red Chinese bra with black eyes, which looked different from others.

I can't believe I have no eyes.

In the dark eyes, another kind of dissatisfaction slowly floated. In the dark hands, in the flames, it was like blood, but also bitter.

A suppressed voice.

Extremely cruel.

"what is this?"

"Gu Man Tang" was certainly not a child who was raised with courtesy and reciprocity, but a child who was tortured and driven out.

anger.

The future is unknown.

Using cruel means, Luo Chuan stared into those blood-black eyes, without the feelings of the other half, especially on his forehead, where there were faint iron marks.

Glows red.

I don't know. It's geometric.

"The principal is not far away. He wants to use Gu Mantong to kill us."

Luo Chuan looked at the deep forest behind Yizhuang with some irony. His figure seemed to be hidden in it, but he didn't know where.

However, he still had some recognition for those eyes.

Uncle Jiu smiled bitterly.

“This is the hardest for myself.”

This profession also has a fatal weakness: the host is usually a weak chicken, less quarrelsome, and more energetic.

Regarding the body, I did it lazily.

Think about it. Everyone has practiced the spells better, but the body still needs practice. Isn't that delaying their eating and drinking?

Most of the surrendered troops were rich.

Just because they are aloof doesn’t mean they don’t love money.

Rarely are personal grudges, whether or not they exist.

Most of them just kill and burn for money.

"'I saw you. How did you get out? If I did, you wouldn't stand a chance."

Luochuan looked at the withered thatched cottage deep in the forest. It was also a small Yizhuang a few years ago. Unfortunately, there are fewer and fewer people.

Not only the rich landowners, but also the relatives. Most poor families cannot live independently. How can they pay the necromancer to bring the dead back for burial?

Hey!

　(Li Qian's) In the thatched hut, a hunchbacked man opened the door.

It seems to be withered, not a person.

Like ghosts. The skin is like glued to the bones, but Luochuan can't ignore them. One after another, if there is no protection.

That's a ghost.

"I have met Master Xu."

Open the convenient door celery.

Luo Chuan frowned and looked around. There was nothing there except a few pottery jars.

"Please..."

The long note was a little harsh, as if it had used up all the strength.

"Taiji, you are a monk from Southeast Asia. How do you know who I am? ...

Luochuan looked at the old man's child warily, sometimes kneeling on the ground, sometimes kneeling on the beam, which seemed very interesting.

Effect.

Chapter 235: The profession of the god of death is a bit dangerous

"Luochuan, I'm still interested in your life, but I don't mind telling your family. Because you already have a place to live."

Cough~

The ghost scholar took a white silk cloth and applied it to the coughed-up blood.

Very good disguise.

But they still saw it.

"Of course, I also want to take something from you and break your five disadvantages and three shortcomings. This way, it will be good for both you and me."

"Can I say something? Doesn't the Central Plains allow such a domineering person?"

Uncle Jiu moved his fingers slightly and looked at the ghost-faced scholar with a smile.

"Ah, you got the wrong person.

He didn't know Xu Bu Si's birthday. How could others know? Even if they did, most of the birthday information would be fake.

Which Hugh? What is the basis of Frozen Eagle?

That is a being that seeks death.

Especially with the presence of the class teacher, for example, on birthdays, a hair can kill someone, how can you expose yourself?

Jay's sneer

The ghost scholar was dripping his own cinnabar red, as bright as the blood between his eyebrows.

Haha!

Luo Chuan stared at the ghost-faced scholar sarcastically. Arrogance is a person's greatest weakness, and it leads him to destruction.

I really want to die.

How could he make such a big mistake?

The ghost scholar grinned, took out a large pot from his back, and took a leisurely breath.

A pungent smell seemed to suddenly disturb people's minds.

Hey.

"Dead oil."

Luo Chuan frowned and said nothing.

They are indeed birds of a feather. They have no traditional virtues of a mistress. Instead, they are full of conflicts of interest.

Go dream.

Just a light hit.

"Xu Bu Si, it is exactly twelve o'clock now. The willow branch is on the moon. Today is the day you die."

Sparks fell on the scroll, burning with blue flames. Luo Chuan looked at the scroll quietly, as if there was a strange power.

It was as if tearing the void in half.

Under the moonlight.

A dark scale was floating in the air. A ghost hand flicked the chip lightly and bit the corner of its mouth. …

The cold light of a knife.

A little bit cold.

Old red blood and decay.

Death

Haha, Luochuan, Xisi, why do you want to replace the ghosts of Central Plains?

I don’t know who gave them the courage to let things run wild here.

"Humph."

Humph, humph!

"Very clever. This is my platform, and no one but me can set foot in this area."

The ghost scholar tapped the bronze cauldron gently, and under the scattered sparks, a ray of pentagram light shone brightly under the snow-white moonlight.

"Xu Bu Si, please don't give up."

hum.

Luo Chuan turned around and observed him from two places at the same time.

"Why do you want to work?"

The ghost scholar was startled and wanted to hide again.

He was scared.

"Ah, you're so arrogant. In a fantasy world, whose life horoscope is really just a bluff, not even the people they love know. Why do you think I know? I forgot to tell you, but I didn't have to. If you were a half-baked magician, someone would accept you."

Luo Chuan snorted coldly.

I want to see a show.

The one who can really decide life and death is Taishan Fujun, a distant ancient god who almost only plays a role in myths and legends. Unfortunately, I haven't seen him for a long time.

Papermakers, whose original job was to help the dead rest in peace, have jobs in hell and receive good service.

A profession that has emerged from making paper figures to replace living people. Unfortunately, the ghost-faced scholar is crooked.

Relying on the death of the West is a blasphemy to the underworld. Luochuan does not need to intervene, the ghosts hiding in the dark will not let them go.

You may be at a loss at ordinary times, but this is no reason for foreign gods to invade your territory.

Horsehide!

I'm bullied, isn't there anyone?

I can stand it, but I can't stand it!

Fantasy spirits kept appearing in the forest, including ghosts, the Black and White Impermanence, a horse-faced man, and a judge sitting quietly in a dark chair.

"You bold scholar, you surrendered to the god of death and rashly acted like a monk. Now, we conclude that you will never be reborn and you will suffer in the eighteen levels of hell."

Judge Lu threw the document with his iron pen and silver hook, and it fell at the feet of the ghost-faced scholar.

"I refuse to accept it. Why?"

The ghost scholar coughed violently, his voice was intermittent, and his slightly hoarse voice became louder. He refused to obey.

"We have countless gods, so there is no need for strange deaths. You don't think this is a dead person, do you? Foreign monks like to read scriptures. This is hell."

Judge Lu got into the cage angrily.

The ghost carried the basket and slowly walked into the smoke.

The figure gradually disappeared.

Luo Chuan sneered.

"Ghost-faced Scholar, you shot yourself in the foot. Have you ever thought about today's scenario?"

"no"

The ghost scholar struggled angrily, and the paper figures around him instantly pounced on the ghosts.

Wherever you cut with the knife, the ghost will disappear there?

Even ghosts seem unable to withstand the power of a paper cutter.

However, after all, it's just a ping-pong ball without water.

After all, the knife is only in the hands of mortals, and it is somewhat comparable to that ghost. How can ordinary people be ghosts? There must be people who can distinguish between good and evil before them.

Or monks. ...

There isn't a single character that gets angry easily.

The ghost scholar is an ordinary person after all. How could he not tell the difference when he saw the ghost killing him?