What a cruel joke God had played on him. The girl he had been searching for was called Wen Tong. She was the only light in his first half of life.
But he extinguished his only warm flame with his own hands.
Ouyang Feng clenched the jade pendant in his hand, feeling a dense pain like being bitten by insects and ants crawling up into his heart, so painful that he could hardly breathe.
Ouyang Feng didn't think it was his fault. He blamed everything on fate, an inescapable destiny. He hated the world with a strange hatred. Why was it so harsh on him? Why was it so unfair to him?!
It was not his fault, it was fate's fault. Fate pushed him into a desperate path again and again, so he made so many huge mistakes.
Ever since he pushed his sister into the river at the age of eight, Ouyang Feng knew that there was no turning back.
Since Heaven refused to show him mercy, he didn't need to care about so-called morality. He didn't believe in gods, didn't worship Buddha, didn't accept his fate, and didn't fear ghosts. He would do anything to achieve his goal.
What fate refuses to give him, he will fight for himself.
This is true for fame, wealth, and power, and it is also true for Wen Tong.
Ouyang Feng leaned sideways on the leather sofa, and took two sips of the white powder in his pockets. His face gradually calmed down, and a sinister aura was revealed in his handsome and gentle features.
It's like a cobra spitting out poisonous venom, feminine and vicious.
The sky in Beijing in November was changing rapidly, with several heavy rains in a row. The weather was getting colder day by day, and the biting chill of the northern winter had already appeared. Pedestrians on the street also put on thin fleece sweaters.
This year's winter came unusually early.
A stately building stands in the middle of the Third Ring Road, a renowned gathering place for the wealthy. Only those with specific business cards can enter. Its silver exterior, tinged with gray against the gloomy sky, appears particularly depressing.
It seems like there is a huge conspiracy.
In a private room on the third floor of the building, three people were sitting around a table, all in silence.
The young man on the left has a high nose and thin lips, the bone structure of a Westerner, and the facial features of an Orientalerer. He is extraordinarily handsome, and his every move reveals a sense of sharpness and dominance. This person is undoubtedly Jiang Chen.
The young man in the middle still had a faint smile on his face. That gentle and polite smile seemed to be native to his face, like an exquisite mask, hiding the darkness and selfishness in his heart.
Needless to say, this person is Ouyang Feng.
The aloof and arrogant black man on the right now looked a little anxious, with his eyebrows tightly furrowed.
Fu Jia placed two fingers on his temple. Ordinary people didn't understand why and thought he was just thinking. Only those with magical powers could see that he was using the Thousand Mile Sound Transmission Technique and was communicating with the people in the heavens.
All I could hear were the chattering complaints, one message after another, with almost no time to rest.
At the beginning, he brought Bodhi to the heaven with the consent of the Emperor. The Emperor said at that time that as long as he could control Bodhi, he could turn a blind eye and pretend not to see it.
What a joke! How could he possibly control Bodhi?!
Without a pass token, Bodhi could not pass through the barrier between the heaven and the human world, so Fu Jia safely left the "old immortal" who had lived for a thousand years in heaven and came down to the human world alone.
At this point, the heavens were in an uproar.
In fact, gods are similar to mortals. When they are not on earth to maintain the order of heaven, they live an ordinary and simple life in heaven.
The gods who like raising chickens raise chickens, the gods who like farming farm, and the gods who like calligraphy and painting study these elegant things...
Everyone has their own hobbies in their spare time, which they use to pass the boring hundreds of years of being immortals.
As soon as Bodhi returned to heaven, this comfortable and ordinary life changed.
The gods rushed to tell each other, and everyone was in danger. The devil who had caused trouble a thousand years ago has returned!
What?! Damn it, why isn't this old bastard dead yet?!
Bodhi only stayed quietly in the Fuga Palace for three days. On the third day, Bodhi finally couldn't stay there any longer and began to show his "submissive" nature of jumping around.
He went to pluck the feathers of the Songhua chicken raised by the immortals in the east, hoping to make a duster. Poor Songhua chicken, the three most beautiful feathers on its butt were plucked out by the shameless Bodhi.
The Songhua chicken lost its "favorite feathers" and had a bald spot on its butt. It was extremely angry and circled in the sky every day, cackling, determined to settle the score with the hair-plucking monster.
This was a difficult time for the gods in heaven. They were sleeping soundly in their palaces when they heard the angry crowing of a pine pheasant. If the pheasant could speak human language, it would definitely curse them with vicious words like "Dig up your ancestors' graves and fuck your wife."
The gods couldn't sleep and had dark circles under their eyes the next day.
The god who raised chickens was filled with righteous indignation: "Fujia, my rooster has only three of the most beautiful feathers, which makes it win the first place in the Chicken King selection every year, and that old man plucked them all! His mind is so vicious, his crime is simply unforgivable! Poor my rooster..."
Fu Jia's temples were throbbing from his howling, and he finally managed to coax the immortal down, and the immortal promised to use this month's immortal salary to compensate for the loss of his family's pine chickens.
Just as this immortal appeased the person, another immortal came over, and it was almost impossible to cope with them all. It was amazing how much trouble Bodhi could cause in a day.
The last communication was from the Emperor. You can ignore communications from other gods, but not from the Emperor.
Fu Jia pressed his fingers to his temple once again, and the Emperor's deep and steady voice came: "Fu Jia, Bodhi's misfortune is too serious. I can't turn a blind eye to it."
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
