Bai Song glanced at him dimly.
Seeing him look like a smug villain, I couldn't help but feel a headache.
If the ancestor had not been holding the treasure of the Ding Chan Sect in his hand, Bai Song would not have bothered to care about his trivial matters.
As a Buddhist disciple of the Zen sect, he has a handsome appearance and a noble temperament. He can charm a large number of fairies wherever he goes.
But... he has a mouth.
The effect of the disguise pill I took before was not very long-lasting.
As a result, whenever this guy sets up a fortune-telling stall, he will run into all kinds of enemies whom he had offended because of his bad mouth.
For more than half a month, Bai Song had to step forward every day to snatch him back from his enemies.
This caused Mengjin's old vinegar jar to be overturned from time to time.
But since the two dragons of the Meng family were urgently recalled to the Fantasy Sea Realm, Bai Song finally smelled fresh air.
Instead of the sour taste of aged vinegar.
Whenever it was late at night and everyone was asleep, Bai Song always wondered what the ancestor was doing.
Have you eaten and drunk enough?
Are the spirit crystals you carry on you enough?
But the immortal letters sent to the ancestor always fell into the sea, which made Bai Song worried all day long.
In a trance, Bo Song heard an angry shout and then came to his senses.
"Feng Du, if you have the guts, go out and challenge me in a one-on-one fight!"
Bo Song subconsciously covered himself with an aura shield to isolate the saliva foam that flew towards him with the sound of his words.
Then he looked disdainfully at the black-faced male cultivator who was angered by the chattering Buddhist:
“Pay attention to public health.”
After hearing this, the monks watching around began to point fingers at the black-faced monk.
"Oh, come on, this fellow Taoist's personal hygiene really needs improvement."
"Of course not. He's drooling and foaming all over the place. He's definitely not a good person."
"Besides, look at his face, it's as black as charcoal. It must have been a long time since he last washed it..."
Looking at the chattering crowd around him, the chattering Buddhist tugged at Bosong's clothes:
"Okay, old friend, how much spirit crystals did you spend on hiring these water soldiers?"
Bo Song was speechless at the attitude of not caring about the matter.
It was clearly him who caused the trouble, so why did he always have to ask her to clean up the mess?
However, I still need him to help me tell my fortune later.
Then help him one last time!
Thinking of this, Bai Song picked up the black-faced male cultivator in front of him with a complicated expression.
As his eyes gradually turned terrified, he said, "Come on, I'll challenge you in a duel."
Then he flew out of the city.
Private fighting is not allowed in Cang Yan Immortal City. Violators will not only be fined a huge amount of spirit crystals, but will also be blacklisted and banned from entering for at least one year.
Seeing the two figures disappear from their sight, the surrounding monks dispersed.
Jiang Bao and Chatterbox Buddhist, who were left behind, packed up their things and returned to the restaurant in an unusually tacit understanding.
A quarter of an hour later, Bai Song returned to the restaurant refreshed.
He kicked open Feng Du's door and said coldly, "Hurry up and do some divination."
I looked up and saw that there was no one in the room?
Bo Song was immediately furious.
She took great pains to help him drive away his enemies.
But he quietly packed up his bags and fled?
The fist is hard!
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and Bo Song punched the half-open door.
"Feng Du, you're dead!"
Bai Song, who was furious, was about to leave when he saw a trembling hand reaching out from behind the door.
"Ahem, old friend!! Your fist is still as powerful as ever."
With a creaking sound, the door was pushed open.
The chatterbox with two bloodstains under his nose appeared in Bosong's sight.
Looking at his nose bleeding.
Bo Song subconsciously took a step back to prevent her gorgeous dress from being stained with blood.
Feng Du sighed with a complicated expression: "Old friend, our friendship..."
I saw him about to start talking non-stop again.
Bai Songfeng carried the man to the table and forced him to sit down.
"There is friendship between us, but it is not much. Start divination quickly."
"Wait a minute. Let me wipe the blood from my nose first."
Bai Song knew in his heart that this guy was just delaying.
When she couldn't contact the ancestor, she came to him to divine his whereabouts.
In the end, I was dismissed with a sentence "Once a month, otherwise I'm not allowed."
Today is exactly one month since the last time.
Today, even if his hands are disabled, he has to calculate this divination.
Seeing this, Feng Du knew that he could not escape today.
He took out his meal with a worried look on his face, his hands shaking.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell fortunes, it’s mainly because he doesn’t dare!
Divination is not like fortune-telling, it can backfire.
Moreover, he had secretly read a fortune for that person before, and the result was...
Not only were the hexagrams all messed up, but his eyes were almost blinded.
After vomiting blood several times, he lost consciousness and was finally let go by the mysterious force.
God, please do not spy.
This was the line of words that suddenly flashed in his mind when he fainted.
People have clearly told him not to snoop, so how could he dare to continue doing that?
So when Bo Song came to him, he immediately found an excuse to get away with it.
Who would have thought that this guy just couldn't get over this hurdle.
Force him to tell fortunes!
Looking at the ruthless female cultivator with a look of grievance in his eyes, Feng Du decided to give it one last try.
If he is not allowed to spy on the gods, then he can at least spy on other people, right?
Thinking of the male cultivator who always followed Ji Yao silently, a hint of determination flashed in Feng Du's eyes.
It’s him!
Then he threw the turtle shell in his hand on the table.
Before he could even read the hexagram, a mouthful of blood choked his throat: "Puff—"
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