NOVEL NEXT Chapter twenty-three
When the pen falls, the wind and rain startle, and when the book finishes, ghosts and gods weep.
Fang Zhongyong heard something extraordinary, the words of the man in white in front of him seemed to open up a new world for him, his immature face and eyes were full of longing.
Clenching her fists tightly, her expression became a little nervous, and she had a feeling that she would see an incredible scene.
Seeing his prodigy son's serious face, Fang's father also frequently frowned, he had never seen Zhong Yong cast such longing eyes on a person.
Looking up at the boy in white, he couldn't believe what tricks he could do at his age.
A pen.
Li Ming stretched out his hand.
A black writing brush flew out of the pavilion and landed in his hand, and Fang's father and Fang Zhongyong were startled by just this movement.
I saw that he was full of momentum, and his white feathers were flying slowly, as if a fairy came to the world.
Zhongyong, look carefully, the same poem, in your hands, is different from mine.
Li Ming has received nine years of compulsory education, coupled with the current 46 levels of cultivation and Qi training, the combination of the two can definitely reduce the dimensionality of Fang Zhongyong and Fang's father.
Of course he can't write poems and books, but he knows a lot of domineering poems and sentences, even if Fang Zhongyong knows it, it doesn't matter, because the most important thing is special effects.
The same poems and sentences have different manifestations in my own hands, which can better reflect that he is a saint.
Whether the character of the saint can be stabilized depends on whether the special effects added this time are enough.
As long as the special effects are strong enough, even gods can be fooled.
He has this confidence.
You read the poem you created just now. Li Ming said expressionlessly, I want to make your poem come alive and let you know the supreme realm of a saint.
Fang Zhongyong was a little puzzled and didn't know why, but he still said: Peach blossoms and butterflies grow in the waves on the shore, and the fog and clouds paint the castles in the sky.
Then I saw Li Ming holding a brush. The brush obviously had no ink, but it could write in the air, as if it had splashed ink.
Pen down.
The characters slowly drifted away with the wind, and soon, a picture appeared in the air: there were peach blossoms on the bank of the river, colorful butterflies fluttered among the flowers in waves, and there were castles in the air in front of them, just like being in a sea of fog.
Fang Zhongyong swallowed his saliva, his small eyes were full of surprise, could this be what he called the realm of a saint?
Fang's father was even more surprised beyond belief, because Fang Zhongyong just uttered a sentence, and Li Ming began to write. When the pen fell, the characters dissipated, and then the picture was formed.
Continue. Li Ming looked at Fang Zhongyong.
There must be something wrong with your pen.
Father Fang still didn't give up, and reached out to check the pen in Li Ming's hand, but he didn't see any ink, and then scribbled in the air, but nothing appeared in the air.
The pen is not the most important person, the key is the person who uses it. Li Ming looked at him.
I, I... Fang's father faltered and stopped talking, his heart began to waver.
Is this the realm of a saint? Fang Zhongyong opened his eyes wide. The same thing can only describe the artistic conception in his own hands, but it can be returned in the form of pictures in the hands of a saint.
Far from it, the real saint is... Li Ming waved his hands, his white robes fluttered, his black hair fluttered, and he roared: The water of the great river comes from the sky.
With a wave of his hands, the scene in front of him suddenly changed, and the waterfall in the distance flowed backwards, forming a big river directly in front of him.
The real saint is... Li Ming continued, The rocks pierced through the sky, the stormy waves hit the shore, and thousands of piles of snow were rolled up.
As soon as Li Ming's words fell, the big river in front of him couldn't be calm. There were rocks stirring in the water, and gradually the waves became rough, like a wild beast roaring, constantly rolling.
A real saint is... a thunderbolt from the blue sky, black clouds overwhelming the city,
Jiaguang opened to the Japanese golden scales.
Li Ming's voice came out again. It was originally a cloudless blue sky, but as soon as his words fell, thunder appeared in the sky, and soon endless black clouds appeared in the sky.
Black clouds enveloped the sky and the earth, and the howling wind seemed to want to brighten everything. Suddenly, golden light burst out, piercing the sky, and the heavenly soldiers and generals were in the sky, like guarding the gate of heaven.
The real saint is... the roc rises with the same wind in one day and soars ninety thousand miles.
Neither Fang's father nor Fang Zhongyong recovered from the shock. They saw Li Ming spread his hands and leaned forward. Then the wind swept in, and he turned into a Kunpeng soaring into the sky.
The big bird that covers the sky and the sun casts a large shadow, and it soars upwards with its wings spread, trying to compete with the sky.
But in the blink of an eye, Li Ming didn't turn into a big roc, but stood in front of them, like a god, and his figure became extremely tall.
Like a big mountain, Fang's father and Fang Zhongyong couldn't breathe.
But he hasn't stopped.
The real sage is... I smile to the sky from the sidelines, and go to Kunlun to keep my heart and gall.
His words fell heavily, and Fang Zhongyong and Fang's father saw an astonishing scene immediately. Li Ming's figure became extremely tall, hundreds of feet high, and he was holding a hatchet in his hand, cutting towards the sky. go.
Like a god, the breath of destruction is constantly erupting.
The real sage is... Chaimen hears the dog barking, and returns to the people on a snowy night.
As soon as Li Ming's words came out, the world changed again, the cold wind blew, and the snow fell. Fang Zhongyong and Fang's father exhaled heavy white air, and less frost appeared on their eyebrows.
They were so cold that they shivered, exhaled and rubbed their hands together.
Not far away, the big black dog was trembling with fear, growling constantly, wagging its tail, and baring its teeth, just in response to the sentence Chaimen hears the dog bark.
They have not yet adapted from the cold, the environment suddenly changed, and they heard another sentence.
A real saint is...how can we be a thing in a pond, who will turn into a dragon when encountering a storm.
Immediately after the dragon chant of Ho Ho Ho..., Li Ming turned into a golden dragon, and the scales shone with dazzling luster, soaring straight up.
dragon.
The auspicious thing is an ancient totem, no matter where it is, it is the highest level of belief.
Fang's father had never seen a saint, but he knew what a dragon looked like, and his legs were already slightly weak. Suddenly, the soaring dragon rushed directly in front of his eyes, opening its mouth as if to swallow him.
He was so startled that he thumped and knelt directly on the ground.
But at this time, Qi discovered that there were no dragons descending from heaven and earth here, only a young man with his back turned to them, and this young man was full of astonishing luster.
saint!
Fang's father trembled all over, swallowed his saliva constantly, and was so shocked that his knees gradually weakened. He knelt on the ground and pulled the prodigy Fang Zhongyong who was still standing beside him in a daze.
Fang Zhongyong came back to his senses, and slowly knelt down with his father.
Kneeling behind Li Ming.
They kowtowed three times and spoke tremblingly.