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The strong doubts in Yu Tong's heart were conveyed through the telepathic props.
Chen Yanli leaned against the wall, folded his arms and thought.
Yu Tong leaned on his shoulder and pondered with him.
Lu Yuanyou ran around the building with the paper man and came back jogging with a confused look on his face.
"Master Fachen, didn't you say that in this building, the first floor houses the living dead, and the second and third floors hold evil spirits?"
Chen Yanli nodded.
The paper figure Xiaolan, who was following behind her, said timidly, "We just checked the entire dormitory building except for the fifth floor."
"The coffin on the first floor is empty, and there's not a single ghost on the other floors. But the single rooms on the second and third floors are filled with a strong yin energy. They must have been used to imprison... ghosts..."
Xiaolan's voice became smaller and smaller.
The eyes of Monk Fachen and the little white rabbit suddenly became unusually bright.
Yu Tong stomped on Chen Yanli's shoulders.
He knew what Dahe Guangming was planning.
That ugly man who was shouting for war and killing everywhere and had black ink dripping all over his body was not the real Great Harmony and Light Bodhisattva at all.
Chapter 80 The Third World (17)
While Yu Tong and the others were still chatting in the donor's dormitory, the man in black robe outside had already started to behave inhumanely.
Countless streams of ink gushed out from beneath his black robe, pouring down from the sky like black rain.
The tourists below screamed and tried to dodge to the side.
But there were so many people around, with tourists huddled together. It was difficult to even move, let alone pull out an umbrella from my backpack to block the ink from the sky.
However, unlike what the tourists expected, the black ink did not fall on anyone.
Instead, it condensed into a huge pool of black ink above them.
The black-robed man's cold, emotionless male voice sounded again in the air.
"From now on, every four minutes, ink will fall from the sky onto the crowd, the number of times each time varying."
"Don't be so nervous. You won't be hurt by the ink. On the contrary, they will become the lucky ones I choose."
The black-robed man raised his hand, his tone becoming increasingly excited. "You will become loyal followers of the Great Unity and Light Bodhisattva and my supporters."
"Your life will merge with mine and you will gain true eternity."
The tourists looked at each other, not knowing what he was going to do.
But his previous cruel actions left a strong psychological shadow on them.
No one dared to ask, and no one dared to look directly at the man in black robe.
Tourists with children covered their children's mouths tightly, lest their cries attract the monster in the sky.
As time passed, an atmosphere of anxiety spread among the tourists.
The man in black robe casually took out a brush from his pocket and tapped it twice at the inkwell in the air.
The ink pool, which was originally just floating in the air, suddenly began to drip ink.
One drop, two drops, three drops...
The number is not that large, only about forty or fifty drops in total.
The crowd below was afraid that the ink would be dangerous, so they covered their heads and squeezed out.
The crowd was too dense and the gate was blocked, leaving the tourists with nowhere to hide.
Soon, there were fifty tourists with ink all over their bodies.
Their expressions were tense and their bodies were stiff, not knowing what would happen next.
The next second, the man in black robe casually raised the brush in his hand.
The tourists, their bodies stained with ink, began to fly uncontrollably.
They flew out of the crowd and fell onto the platform below the black-robed man.
The tourists who came with them shouted the names of their companions and relatives in the crowd.
After the black-robed man snorted coldly, everything fell silent.
When he spoke again, there was a hint of excitement in the black-robed man's tone.
"These fifty donors have a connection with me, Dahe Guangming. However, we still need some external help. Only then can our connection truly begin."
He glanced at the crowd below.
"Monks don't tell lies, and my previous promise still stands. I believe all of you donors understand what I mean. Whoever comes to help us integrate will be able to leave this temple safely."
"I know some of you are calling the police. If mortal power is really useful, can our Dahe Guangming Temple become a century-old temple?"
As he spoke, the crowd gradually became agitated.
When he spoke again to urge them, dozens of men and women walked out of the crowd in silence.
I picked up the branches and stones on the ground and walked towards the platform.
Soon, bursts of painful cries for help were heard from the platform.
The sound quickly disappeared, and none of the fifty people remained.
Most of the men and women, whose bodies were covered in blood, had never done such a bad thing. They walked down the platform in a daze, crying and cursing.
At this moment, a stream of black ink suddenly fell from the sky and flowed into the mouth of a middle-aged man in the team.
The man in black robes chose him.
The man's body trembled a few times and his eyes became cloudy.
When he returned to normal, his originally rough face became feminine, and his eyebrows and eyes were somewhat similar to those of the dead lewd monk.
The old monk held the middle-aged man down and began to shave his hair, muttering something in a way the man could not understand.
"One more is missing. If we can create a killer monk, we can complete the Ten Evils Formation. With so many sacrifices, my master will surely become a true Bodhisattva."
The middle-aged man was a robber. He had just been released from prison and wanted to come to the temple to relax and confess his crimes.
Unexpectedly, before he had even finished confessing his crime, he was charged with murder.
He didn't feel any guilt towards the people he tortured to death.
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