Xinyuan was raised by Master Nanke since he was a child.

When he was young, he was like a little novice in his heart, cute and innocent. However, as he grew older, the surrounding political situation was turbulent, rebellions were rampant, and he was accustomed to seeing the suffering of the people, and his heart began to deviate from the trajectory expected by Master Nanke.

There is no doubt that Xinyuan is a genius, a genius of Buddhism.

After cultivating the Buddha for more than ten years, he has achieved positive results and cast the golden body of Arhat. After another hundred years, the appearance has been retained at the age of 18. After a hundred years of dedicated cultivation, although his skin is like jade and his body is slender and thin, he has the ability to crack stones with his bare hands, and he can tear tigers and leopards alive.

The rules of Xiniu Hezhou are naturally different from those of Nanzhan Buzhou. This is the world of Buddhism, and Buddhism has supreme power, even higher than the national court.

However, Buddhism usually ignores the world, only cares about demons and monsters, regardless of the suffering of the world, but if there are people suffering in front of the door and are in a good mood, they will still take care of it. This point is somewhat similar to that of the Central Plains. Therefore, it is inevitable to change the dynasty.

The process of changing the dynasty is naturally inevitable with killing and suffering.

A group of roving defeated troops broke into the peaceful foothills of Wanshou Mountain.

The old monk Master Nanke and the young monk Xinyuan arrived in front of the county gate and blocked the front of this group of defeated troops.

The old monk is like an ancient pine, old and vigorous. The young monk is like a jade carving, delicate and fragile. One old and one young, both of them are beautiful.

This group of defeated soldiers did not dare to underestimate the two monks, so they left under the persuasion of the old monks.

However, that night, the young monk took advantage of the old monk's sleep, secretly took the old monk's Zen staff, and quietly went out.

On that day, as it was today, it snowed, but it was very heavy.

The young monk is also like this, wearing a bright yellow monk's robe full of patches.

The heavy Zen staff was as light as straw in his hand, and he stepped briskly across the mountains and forests, his delicate face becoming hideous.

After all, he is different from his master, who is merciful and can't even bear to hurt an ant.

The young monk has a delicate face, like a jade carving. It seems fragile, however, the heart is cast of iron. Inside the exquisite jade carving, there is a statue of Fuhu King Kong.

At the gate of the county seat, his eyes were like eagle's eyes, and after walking through dozens of steps, he clearly saw the heads hanging from the waists of this group of defeated troops, including men and women, old and young, who were by no means people in the army, and most likely, innocent people.

Before I knew it, I had crossed more than 30 miles of road, and found this group of defeated troops in a deserted inn on the side of the avenue.

A low cry reached the ears of the young monk. The voice was weak and weak.

The young monk no longer hesitated, chanted the Buddha's name, showed compassion on his face, the hideousness on his face melted, and walked forward with a Zen staff.

He was slender and walked lightly, without making a sound. Before I knew it, I went around to the back of the inn, climbed over the courtyard wall, and walked in.

The cry came from the interview, and the young monk walked to the door and looked through the gap.

Three unclothed women, curled up in the haystack, covered in wounds, tears dry, half alive and half dead, like animals.

The young monk didn't let them out, and now is not the time. He turned and walked away, his hand grasping the staff, his joints turning white.

In the living room, the table was smashed, just turned into firewood, burning in the iron basin. The window paper was shattered, and a cold wind poured in, making the fire shake. Above the flame, there is an iron pot, and the hot soup in the pot is boiling hot.

The three defeated soldiers who kept vigil drank piping hot soup, scolded and scolded, shook the dice at the same time, and resisted sleepiness with the excitement of gambling. The cold weapon was thrown aside by them, and when it was not used, it was naturally forgotten by these fierce people, and it was only when it was needed again that they would remember it.

With an excited roar, one laughed and put away the copper coin, and the two shook their heads and sighed, their faces twisted.

At this moment, the gate shattered. The young monk shot in with a cold wind and snow, the flames shook violently, and his shiny head clearly reflected the three evil ghosts in the world.

Bang!

The golden staff had a trembling sound, and the solemn magic weapon hung dark red blood in the splattered flesh.

One head fell to the ground, and the remaining two were still in shock, and the young monk said "Amitabha" while waving a Zen staff like a straw.

Bang bang!

Two more bodies fell to the ground, and when they died, they didn't even have time to scream.

Drops of blood dripped from the Zen staff, and under his feet, dark red pools of blood spread.

The cold wind quickly took away the warmth in the room, and the young monk kicked over the brazier, and the flying firewood hung with flames, scattered everywhere.

It's on fire!

Screaming rang out, someone jumped from the stairs and broke his leg. The young monk walked up and, in his frightened eyes, raised his staff.

It was his first killing, or even his first killing. But he didn't hesitate, one by one, crisp and neat, the scene was extremely bloody, and the flying minced meat hung everywhere, and then squeaked in the flames, exuding a strong smell of meat.

He burst into the flames, and in the thick white smoke, he searched for the panicked ones. Then, one after the other, they all fell to the ground and fell into flames.

With a violent groan, the house collapsed.

The young monk burst out of the collapsing house, and his two arms, each holding two women wrapped in quilts, rushed out of the collapsed house.

Then all the way to the backyard, in the firewood room, three women smelled the smoke and banged on the door in panic. The flames hadn't spread yet, but they were already feeling the heat. Although it drove away the bitter cold, it also brought great fear, the fear of death.

The young monk put the two women down, and they blushed with shame, so shy that they were even better than life and death in the past few days.

His handsomeness temporarily saved the hearts of these two women.

Xiniu Hezhou, in a woman's heart, those with hair are not necessarily as good as those without hair. The smooth head and the handsome appearance can make them obsessed to the point of madness.

The young monk had a lot of strength, and the locked door was directly removed by him.

Seeing the young monk, looking at the flames burning behind the monk, the three women inside knew that they were saved, and they were crying.

The 36 villains have all become ghosts under the staff of the young monk. Then it was purified by a fire.

In the morning, the old monk opened the door and was taken aback.

In front of the door, the young monk knelt there, and the snow fell, fell on top of his head, slid down, and piled up on both shoulders.

"Xinyuan, what are you doing here?"

"Master!" the young monk kowtowed, his head hitting the hard stone floor, and with a thud, the ground shook and snow rose. The young monk's whole face was buried in the snow, and then he slowly raised his head: "Master, I broke the vows." ”