In those most famous old stories, the banshee kings, who are powerful and powerful, always have to make all kinds of hypocritical tricks such as the daughter's house of the boudoir to entangle them with soft fragrance and grind them because they are in love with the stinky skin of an old monk. Even after ten and a half days, the old monk was still in a pure Buddha body, and he didn't think about any tentacles, wax oil, and hard bows.

Since even these female goblins who have seen the mountains for a long time are not peaks, they can also be filled with the Sven style of a young lady. There is no reason to be worshiped by the incense of all the people, there is a guard of honor in and out, and you can enjoy the ghosts and gods like a real wealthy family, but you are not dignified.

Wei Ye held the lacquer box with one hand, his face did not show any emotion, only slightly tilted his head, and then picked up the long whip of the cart and shook it gently towards the donkey's buttocks.

The whip snapped softly, and a row of Sanskrit letters in the Devanagari body on the white iron circle on the neck of the green donkey lit up in an instant, and a Buddha chant sounded softly in the night wind: "There is no strong king Bodhisattva in the south." ”

The Buddha got up, the donkey cart moved, the green donkey pulled the cart, the hooves clattered and sounded, and the ground was covered with frost under the night moon, and the improvised tracking team disappeared into the night.

......

.........

The donkey cart was moving forward according to the guidance of the fairy sorcerer, and at the end of this road, I saw that the clouds were low and hanging wild, the mountains were high and the clouds were high, and the stone steps were winding on the mountain road, but there were countless fireflies flying along the stone road, reflecting a piece of dark green. On the long stone road, there is a thin old monk wrapped in a miserable white white folded cloth, holding a short-handled tin staff with two strands and eight rings in his hand, shaking it gently, making a clear sound.

Behind the old monk, there is a tall husband, with long hair reaching to the knees, a crown of purity, and a sword walking upward. There are also white-haired Weng women who pass by the old monk, goosebumps, and face forward hand in hand. There are also beautiful ladies holding umbrellas, children in Tsing Yi carrying the piano, rich families riding on their shoulders, poor Confucianism carrying books, whether poor or rich, expensive or cheap, beautiful or ugly, old or young, male or female, all climbers have a joy on their faces that cannot be hidden.

With a smile on his face and black anger under his feet, this is an unearthly joy.

The fat man in the yellow shirt lying on the sliding bar, pressing the copper crown on his head with one hand, carefully instructed: "Hold it steady! The front should be low, the back should be high, and if it is not flat, I will send you to serve the two old brothers of a certain family!"

Reprimanded like this, the four white-silk veneer-faced palanquin drivers were still expressionless, but they just slowed down their steps.

The fat man in the yellow shirt took a breath, turned his head and happened to see an acquaintance.

"Master Samara, Madame is going to open a palace in Mangshan Yuan tonight, where are you going?"

The old monk with the exotic style of the Dharma name of Samoro tightened the arm robe on his forbidden body, and the short-handled eight-ring tin staff in his hand stopped shaking, and stood up with one palm to ask the fat man in the yellow shirt: "I have seen Tong Tanyue, the old man is going down the mountain to settle a cause and effect, and he will return immediately." What's more, the old man goes out day and night, and he doesn't eat when he is a child, and it is not too late to turn around and receive the generosity of his wife. ”

The fat man in the yellow shirt listened to the words of the old monk with endless kindness and a hint of sorrow, only to notice that the old monk was not bareheaded today, but wrapped himself in a white cloth handkerchief like a sheep's belly, looking extremely awkward. He couldn't help but reach out and scratch his chest, and wondered, "Now that the weather is gradually getting a little hot, why did the master wrap his head on?"

Listening to the doubts of the fat man in the yellow shirt, the old monk showed a slight smile on his face, and replied solemnly: "Wrapping the head is the law of the laity in white, and the monks are not allowed to do it. ”

After saying that, he raised his hand, spun around the top of his head, and replied softly: "Lao Qu returned to the cold forest today, saw the Eight Merits Pond Turning into the Hell Blood Lake, and heard that the disciple had turned into a hateful bone, and suddenly felt that the eight winds suddenly rose, and his head was full of cold pain, so he wrapped his head in white cloth according to the precepts. ”

The eight winds are not east, west, north and south, not spring, summer, autumn and winter, but the heart is a reputation for depreciation and ridicule of bitterness. The old monk's heart was full of eight winds, and he also noticed the breath of yang fire left by the person who washed the cold forest with blood, and his Zen heart was no longer stable, and he wanted to move.

Lang Lang's shaking tin staff started again, and the old monk asked the fat man in the yellow shirt again, and sighed and said: "The cause of subduing the resentful enemy must be accomplished, and my Buddha is merciful, so I will let the old man subdue the enemy and subdue this heart today." ”

After saying a word, the old monk gently shook the short-handled tin staff in his hand and stepped down the stone road. His monk's shoes touched the moss marks on the stone path, but it was as if someone was holding a light plain yarn and brushing it on the moss, leaving no trace.

Noticing the moss marks on the stone road, the fat man in the yellow shirt narrowed his slender eyes slightly, and secretly sighed, but the toad monks in the cold forest were killed, but it became an inexplicable opportunity for this old neighbor. At this moment, the old monk is afraid that he is already faintly about to step through the two levels of desire and lust, and go straight to the realm of the first Zen, and he may faintly see the layer of heaven on his head.

However, such a sigh is just a matter of heart, and it will be extinguished at will, the fat man in the yellow shirt reached into his arms and grabbed his left breast, and then complained: "How many times have I said it, you can't lift this slider flatter and more securely!"

......

.........

The monk's shoes were scratched through the moss, and the donkey cart had to leave ruts on the dirt road. Wei Ye sat on the edge of the wheel, holding the lacquer box flat with one hand, feeling the restlessness of the human-faced spider in the lacquer box. Suddenly, he raised the long whip of the cart, and there was a crisp sound at the end of the whip, and the donkey cart came to a halt abruptly.

At the front of the road, there was an old monk standing in the middle of the road, stretching out his right hand holding a short-handled eight-ring tin staff, as if to hitchhike a car. However, under the feet of this old monk, there is a faint black qi floating around, no matter how you look at it, it is not a good way.

Wei Ye looked at the old monk wrapped in a white sheep's belly handkerchief and a robe with his arms and arms, and asked as if he was saying "Have you eaten?"

"Tan Yue misunderstood, what the old man wanted to take was not an ordinary car. ”

"I'm not a sheep cart here. ”

"Lao Wei is not an Arhat, he does not take a sheep cart. ”

"This car is not a deer cart either. ”

"The old man is fortunate enough to hear the Dharma, and he doesn't need a deer cart for karma. ”

"My donkey cart is not an ox cart. ”

"The old man is persistent and can't let go, how can he ride the ox cart?"

Between the answers, Wei Ye threw the lacquer box in his palm into his sleeve, and said slightly: "I don't want to board the sheep cart to be an Arhat, I don't want to learn Yuanjue and the Bodhisattva, monk, what kind of car do you want to take?"

The old monk was silent for a moment, then looked directly at Wei Ye, stretched out the short-handled tin staff in his hand, and replied, "The old monk is waiting for a ghost train to escort the outer path into the Abi Hell. ”