"Going into the dead..." The guard slowly repeated his words and then snorted, "Do you practice?"

"Ok."

"The age of the monk is here, you are so embarrassed."

Guarding the skin and laughing at the meat, many people in the mortal media did not have Huigen, can not bear the good fortune, ridicule the Taoist priests, there are always some people who can not eat grapes to say sour.

"I am jealous of you, the soul is not right, not pure."

The master of guilty crimes cast a spell on the burning body, let him cover the living atmosphere, and can contact with the soul, so the guard can not see him, but how much is always uncomfortable, so Shiran sat down again, tilting the legs I found a black ruler from the drawer.

"The sin rule." He said triumphantly, although he did not know what he was proud of, the ruler was not his, but the smaller the official, the more he loved to play, the guards slammed the ruler to the table, and rolled up the eyelids. Staring at the ink, "Hands out, let the official test your merits."

Ink burning: "..."

The merits of his yang?

Will it be measured directly to the side of the great gods to be crushed into slag?

But in full view, he had nowhere to escape. He only had to sigh and hold the light of the soul in one hand and stretched out.

The guard put a ruler on his veins, almost just hit it, and the sinister screamed and screamed, and the black body appeared with blood, accompanied by thousands of people crying.

"I don't know what to do..."

"Ink rain, you can't live forever!!"

"Auntie! Nianga!! Dog stuff why you!! Why!!!"

"Don't kill me... beg you, don't kill me-"

The ink burned his hand back suddenly, and his face was pale as paper.

The ghost in that circle was looking at him in a secluded position. The guard's gaze was particularly embarrassing. He and the tiger wolf stared at the ink, and after a while, he looked down at the ruler.

The red light on the ruler disappeared, and the blood seemed to be the illusion of the genius. I didn't know where it was going, the table was clean, and only the ruler gradually floated a line.

——

There is nothing wrong with sin, escorting the first...

The first few layers of hell?

Because the ink burned before the measurement of the ruler was finished, the upper end did not finish.

The guard slammed his arm, and he was fierce and awkward, staring at him with sinister anger. It was like a boring hunter who finally caught a rare bird. His nose flickered, his eyes flashed with strange light, and the intestines almost flowed out, but this time he was too lazy to plug back.

"Don't move, you give me another test."

He is impatient, greedy, and almost has been asking for the face of Miluo.

His ghost claws smothered the ink-burning wrist and forced him to come over, and ruthlessly poked his sin.

If he is allowed to catch a ghost who can go to the 18th floor of hell, that is a great credit. He can at least sit on the ground and rise to the third level, and no longer need to write every lonely at the gate of the city every day. The soul is coming.

"Measure! Good test!"

The rule of sin is bright again.

Still bloody, crying and shouting.

The smoldering people, the shackles that have been created, seem to have been squeezed into the narrow black ruler, and the swearing blame almost broke the ruler.

"Good hate..."

"Ink rain, I will not let you die..."

The smoldering face is getting more and more ugly. He hangs his eyes, his lips are close, and he doesn't know what color it is.

"You have no conscience!! You turn the world into purgatory!"

"I will not let you go to ghosts!"

"Ah, ah-!"

Weeping, groaning, cursing, resentment.

Suddenly in so many voices, I heard a faint sigh.

"Sorry, it’s Master’s fault..."

The ink burned fiercely and the eyes were sorrowful.

He heard the voice of the past life of the late Qing Dynasty, so soft, so sad, but like a sharp knife into his skull, almost to open his soul.

The voices are getting weaker and the sinfulness is calm.

The above line of small characters reappears:

There is nothing wrong with sin, escorting to the first...

This time, the ink burned without the handle removed in advance, but this line still has not been written!

Guarding a slap, patted the black ruler: "Bad?"

Under the slap of the shot, the black ruler trembled slightly. After a while, the line of words actually dissipated on its own, and a thin scent of scent fluttered on the ruler, and the infinite brilliant glow flashed out.

There was no crying in this ruler, but a hundred birds rushing to the phoenix, and the sound of the sound into the clouds, as if the sound of the nine heavens was coming to the land, the enchantment was full of Taoran, and even the guards could not help but follow the spirit.

When the fairy sounds stop, the guards will return to God.

Looking at it again, six characters have been dropped on the rule of sin -

Ordinary soul, feasible.

The guard lost the voice: "This is impossible!"

Isn’t it just sin? Why are you so ordinary?

He was unwilling, and he took the ruler many times, but each time he had the same result: first, screaming, then good news, and finally, no exceptions, all written with ordinary soul, feasible.

The guard was extremely disappointed, and there was no reason for him to stop an ordinary soul from entering the government.

He began to smother his intestines again, and said, "Well, I think you are really dying."

The smoldering was quite unexpected. I didn't know why. He thought about it. He guessed that the curse of the master of sin was confused with the ruler and he was relieved.

"Get it, take it with you, and delay your grandfather for a long time, don't roll it!"

"..." The ink can't be burnt, and is holding the soul-lighting light to go, suddenly guarding the eyes, and screaming at him -

"stop!"

The ink burned heartbeat quickly, but his face was still calm, seemingly helpless: "What happened?"

The guard lifted his chin: "What is in your arms?"

"Oh, this is ah..." The ink burned the soul light, and the thoughts in his heart flashed quickly, and turned to smile. "It's my funeral."

"With funeral?"

"Yes, it's a device."

"Oh. Something." The guard pointed to the table, and the light flashed in his eyes. "Take your burial here and test it again. I am afraid that this is your instrument and confuses the sin."

"..."

The smoldering heart has already smashed this scorpion all over again, but there is nothing to be done. He has to put down the soul lamp and stretch his wrist again and again.

The guard seems to have a well-thought-out, and can't wait to get the ruler up again.

......

The result is still the same.

It is still six words, clear and clear: ordinary soul, feasible.

Don't say guards, even the ink is burning, I don't know why, but this way, the other party is completely dead, and I am too lazy to wave his hand in.

The ink does not dare to stay for a long time, picking up the soul-light, passing through the long ramp, until the end, the light changes.

The ghost world is in full swing before his eyes.

This is the first layer of hell, and you can't see the end at all. The sky is scarlet, like a burning glow. Chitose rises from the ground, and the house is close to the roof, and the palace is far from the far side. At the entrance of a huge stone, the book "Er Caopi is dust, the soul is returned to Nanke Township". Next to it stands the red-painted archway, and Jinshui melts the three characters of “Nan Kexiang”, each of which is as tall as an adult male.

It turns out that the first layer of **** is called Nanke Township. If the dead are not different, they will all stay here for ten or eight years, waiting for the judge to call themselves, and then go to the second level of trial and fall.

The ink burns and takes the lead light, and walks side by side.

In the eye, there is not much difference between the layout and the human world. The streets, the residents, the corrugated, a total of 18 streets, nine horizontal and nine vertical. Ghost men, ghost girls, and ghost children walked through the line, laughing and whispering, crying and mourning, and the end is the group of devil dances, and the hundred ghosts walked at night.

The east side heard a new woman twitching: "What to do, what to do, said that the remarried woman has to be cut in half, head and feet, each of the two dead ghost men, this is true Who can tell me, is this true?"

There was also a cloak around her, and the messy girl was tearing her tears: "I don't want to be the secret door. It is really life. Before I died, I went to the temple to donate a threshold and wanted thousands of people to step on the tens of thousands of people. I made a redemption for me. But the village chief said that I had to pay him four hundred gold to allow me to put the threshold on. I have to have so much money, why bother to do the flesh business..."

There are also men in the west who count: "400 days, 420 days, 403 days... I said, let me go, she will go, I will be lyrical, how can I stay here four? After a hundred and four days, she still did not follow. Hey, she is so weak, it will not be lost on the road in Huangquan, if it is really lost, how should it be?"

The newly-dead sneaks, all three or five in groups, are gathered at the gate of Nanke Township. They are still unwilling and unable to go.

But going forward, they are all old ghosts who have already returned to the soul and recognized their lives.

They are more calm, more calm, some of their own business, poor life, taking advantage of that long time, waiting for the trial.

When you get to the third street, you can see the downtown area, not the red dust.

In the end, there are no ghosts that have broken the meat and bones. Meng Po Tang did not drink, and it is still a ghost. During his lifetime, he was a pear garden. He still played juggling on the streets. He lived as a embroidered mother. When he died, he also pulled the clouds of **** to weave clothes. The butcher does not dare to kill any more, but he can always pick up some knives and scissors to make a living.

Selling sounds, screaming, one after another, bustling.

The ink burned to a ghost who sold the calligraphy and painting. The ghost was probably not sold before the painting, and starved to death. Therefore, the face was yellow and thin, the cheekbone was high, and the ribs were sunken.

Seeing someone sitting in front of his stall, the thin scholar raised his dim eyes, but his expression was eager: "The son, buy a painting?"

"I want you to draw an image for me."

Scholars seem to have some regrets: "The characters are more than the landscape, the total lack of artistic conception, you see this Taishan cloud map..."

Ink burning: "I don't like landscape painting, just work for you to paint me."

"I don't like mountains and rivers?" The scholar looked at him with his eyes. He was not very happy. "The benevolent Leshan, the wise man is happy, the son is young, and he should cultivate the sentiment, and smell more Danqing fragrance. My pair of Taishan smoke clouds, originally I am reluctant to sell it, but you have asked me before I come to the booth. I don’t want to come to Huijin, so I am cheaper with you-"

"I want to paint a person."

Scholar: "..."

The two eyes looked at each other, and the scholar was his opponent. He was later stunned, but after he was stunned, he was quite angry. A dead ghost face seemed to have some angry blood.

"I don't paint people. I want to paint, ten times the price."

Ink burning: "Do you want money in the ghost world?"

"Family friends, there are always money," the scholar said coldly. "There is money to make the ghosts grind. Although I don't like the smell of copper, but the gentleman loves money, it is a good way. You I am not a relative or friend, and I have no knowledge of the period of my son. Why am I being involved for you for no reason?"

He said a bunch, but he couldn't help but burn a few people who read a lot. Immediately, he frowned. "I just came, no one has burned me."

The book says: "No money, no selling."

When I thought about it for a moment, I thought of an idea and pointed to the Taishan cloud. "Well, I don't sell it without selling it. But I am idle and idle, can you listen to me telling me about this landscape painting?"

The scholar gave a glimpse and turned to be happy: "Do you want to hear this?"

The ink ignited nodded: "Listen to your knowledge, don't you pay?"

"No." The scholar is very proud, and his face has some ridiculous and pitiful brilliance. "If you don't speak money, you will be dirty. If you read a book, you can't get cheesy."

The ink burned and nodded, and he thought that he was starving to death. Although I feel funny, but my heart is somewhat unbearable, but unfortunately, I am ashamed of it, or I really want to give him some silver.

The scholars rushed to take the good paintings from the shelf, set the posture, clear the ghosts and throats, and said with pride: "Then I started."

Seeing the small bookworm hooked up, the ink burned and laughed: "Teach me to see."

The author has something to say: This chapter has many settings and lines. It pays tribute to the young man of the middle class, Lu Xun, who is arrogant and arrogant. The prototypes of the ghost women and ghost scholars and some of the prototypes are from Xianglin and Kong. B, here, marked, to avoid misunderstanding.