Starting from helping someone rob a wedding, he was forced to hide in the Sunset Sect

The female disciple of the Hehuan Sect walked onto the platform again. She smiled slightly and glanced at everyone present with a gentle gaze.

"The first phase of the Mahjong competition has ended. Now we will start the second phase of the event."

Some monks were a little surprised. They thought there would be a advertising period, but they didn't expect the event to go directly to the next stage.

Clean and neat, without any drag.

"I wonder if you still remember the contents of the flyer?" asked the female disciple of the Hehuan Sect.

Some monks took out the flyers of the Hehuan Sect, and they noticed the key word - talent show.

Including but not limited to singing, dancing, painting, etc.

"For the second phase of the activities, fellow Taoists can perform as they please. As long as you think it can impress others, you can go on stage to perform."

"I'll give you an example, fellow Taoists: alchemy, calligraphy, painting, and dancing are all possible."

"The performances of fellow Taoists will be scored by three monks from the Xingtian Division and the Holy Son of our Hehuan Sect, with each person scoring up to ten points."

Only then did everyone understand why there were four tables on the platform. It turned out that they were for the three monks from the Xingtian Division and the Holy Son of the Hehuan Sect to serve as judges.

The female disciple of the Hehuan Sect added: "Just like the first stage of the Mahjong Competition, the top eight will receive a medium-grade spirit stone as a reward, and the top three will receive an additional reward. You can find the Holy Son of our Hehuan Sect to claim the reward when the time comes."

"There is one more thing you need to note. If any fellow Taoists want to perform piano or singing, please wait until the third stage of the event to perform."

"Well, I declare that the talent show will begin now!"

The moment the female disciple of Hehuan Sect announced the start of the talent show, the scene suddenly became quiet, which was completely different from the atmosphere created by the female disciple who hosted the event before.

Everyone was thinking that there was something wrong with the activities of the Hehuan Sect.

Who designed this event? Is this really something that the top ten sects could have done?

The first stage is a mahjong competition, the second stage is a talent show, and the third stage is playing the piano and singing.

Most monks don't want to be the first to go on stage.

For one, they did not know the criteria by which the four judges would score, nor could they determine which performance items would be considered bonus points.

Secondly, they knew that this event was for the people of Qianluo City and those coming from other places, so they felt a little embarrassed to be the first to go on stage.

A male monk in a green robe slowly walked onto the platform. He had a handsome face and clear eyes, and held a folding fan carved with butterfly patterns.

He stood on the platform and gently opened his folding fan.

"Since you fellow Taoists don't want to be the first to go on stage, then I will take the lead." He continued with a smile, "I am a storyteller, and today I will tell you some stories."

The monks in the audience all had very strange expressions. Why do you, a storyteller, have a sword hanging around your waist?

How can a storyteller have a sword hanging from his waist? Are you a swordsman or a storyteller?

He coughed a few times and began to speak: "On a stormy night, the sky seemed to be torn open, heavy rain poured down, and thunder rumbled."

"It was on such an unusual night that the hero Xiao Qian was born. As Xiao Qian grew up, he embarked on a fairy journey full of hardships and dangers."

"Xiao Qian joined the sect, but he could only look up to his beloved Senior Sister Bai from afar every day. Senior Sister Bai is one of the sect's genius disciples. For an ordinary disciple who has just joined, it is simply a fantasy to meet her."

"I know that everyone doesn't like to hear the process in between, so I'll skip a part of the plot here."

So, the story in the middle was omitted.

"There is a strong man who likes Senior Sister Bai and attempts to harm the protagonist Xiao Qian."

"In order to save him, Senior Sister Bai was unfortunately poisoned. In order to save Senior Sister Bai, the protagonist Xiao Qian decided to lift the seal of the fairy treasure, but unexpectedly released the great demon who had been suppressed for a thousand years."

The monks present all showed puzzled expressions. What kind of story is this?

"Sister Bai realized Xiao Qian's feelings for her, so she stepped forward to help. The relationship between the two was sublimated again, and finally..."

The storyteller paused, and the story stopped at the most critical moment, as if he was deliberately trying to keep people in suspense.

"Why don't you continue?" asked a monk.

The storyteller coughed a few times and took out a bowl from his storage ring, clearly hinting at asking for a reward.

Several female monks in the audience threw a low-grade spirit stone to the storyteller, and the four judges behind him all had strange expressions on their faces.

"Saint Son Luo Xuan, he wants to be rewarded for telling stories at your Hehuan Sect's event. Is this appropriate?" A cultivator from the Xingtian Division asked Luo Xuan.

Luo Xuan also threw a low-grade spirit stone to the storyteller and said, "This is exactly the kind of show effect we need for our event!"

The wheat on his shoulder nodded, and it also wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"In the end, in order to save all living beings in the world, Senior Sister Bai decided to sacrifice her own life, and the protagonist Xiao Qian also decided to die. The legendary story of the two was passed down by later generations."

Hundreds of monks stood under the platform, their eyes fixed on the storyteller on the stage. Most of them were very dissatisfied with the ending.

A lone bird flew by, breaking the silence with its clear cry.

Finally, someone couldn't stand it anymore, and a female monk shouted, "The story you told is so popular in mortal novels, and even the ending is tragic. Give me back my money!"

"Give us back the money!" several monks shouted.

"It's not that we can't change the ending of the story." The storyteller coughed a few times and then continued, "In the end, Xiao Qian and Senior Sister Bai miraculously appeared in front of everyone. They didn't die."

After telling this story, the storyteller closed the folding fan in his hand and walked down the platform.

......

......

Once the storyteller in the teahouse starts telling a story, his voice is full of ups and downs and passion.

Every time storytelling was performed, the teahouse would be packed with people.

On this day, he gently tapped the wake-up stick in his hand, and a crisp sound came out.

After moistening his throat, he said, "Thank you all for coming today! Today I want to tell you a story about a swordsman that I came up with."

Someone frowned and said, "If you don't want to listen, continue telling me about that mortal novel from last time."

Most of the people in this town are illiterate, and they come to this teahouse only when they want to listen to stories from earthly novels.

"A lousy storyteller who writes his own stories. Hurry up and finish the novel you told last time." Someone echoed.

The storyteller looked at the teahouse owner and sighed softly. No one wanted to hear his story.

So he started talking about the mortal novel he mentioned last time.

The storyteller's enthusiasm was dampened, as if a burning flame was slowly extinguished in his heart.

Because of this incident, the storyteller's expression gradually lost its former liveliness, and his eyes became indifferent and motionless.

For several days, the storyteller had been telling mortal novels written by others, but no one was interested in the stories he had in mind.

This day was like any other. The storyteller finished his work, told his story, and the crowd dispersed.

The teahouse owner came up to the storyteller and said, "Your story is becoming less and less interesting. Adjust your mood and continue your storytelling."

The storyteller sighed, just as he was feeling lost.

A little boy walked up to him and looked at him with clear eyes: "I really want to hear you tell the story of the swordsman. When will you tell this?"

The storyteller's heart suddenly moved. He didn't expect that someone was waiting for the swordsman's story.

"The men in black swarmed over, but the swordsman was not afraid at all. Instead, he faced them head-on. The swords collided, making clanging sounds, and the sound of swords echoed throughout the street!"

The storyteller was beaming with joy, excited and drooling as he narrated the story. He had rediscovered his passion.

The little boy's clear eyes sparkled with admiration and longing.

Because of the storyteller's swordsman story, the little boy finally became a monk.

This little boy was the first storyteller to go on stage and tell stories.