There is snow in the evening,

No wind.

The lead-like dark clouds rolled from one side of the mountain to the other side of the mountain, a bit like a scoundrel or a nightmare that never dissipated.

At a crossroads, there was a fifty-foot pole with a red lantern hanging on it, so you could see clearly even in the wind and snow.

But if there is any choice, no one is willing to come close.

There are four big words written on the big red lantern - Yuelai Inn.

Under the lanterns, there are a series of dark houses. There are no lights, but various sounds are heard.

Some people cry, some laugh, some sing, some laugh, some scold, some sigh, some sadness, and some pride, almost covering all kinds of life.

The twelve figures came over from a distance, hesitating and hesitating, but in the end they came closer, looking at the four words on the big red lantern, and exhaled a breath of turbid air from the bald monk, stepped forward and called the door, knocking the door panel loudly.

The door opened, and it was bizarre inside, and people of all kinds were extremely lively.

But the bald monk didn't even look at it, walked straight in, came to the innermost counter, and smashed an eye-like accessory on the counter with a snap.

"Amitabha! Boss, be dead!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

Eleven figures behind him came forward silently and took pictures of the same eyeball accessories.

The inn lobby suddenly became quiet, the lights suddenly went out, the sound of singing the song disappeared, the warm fire suddenly became cold, and in a blink of an eye, there were only thirteen people left in the room.

The entire magnificent inn lobby is like a haunted house that has been abandoned for thousands of years.

Behind the counter, there was a man shivering, a man wearing a hat. He seemed extremely old, his movements were as slow as a snail, his body was trembling, and he could blow away with a gust of wind.

In fact, when a gust of wind blew, the man in the hat was almost blown away like a paper man. If the monk hadn't pressed a stick on the paper man's head.

"Amitabha, I said, die!"

The monk's expression on his face was very ferocious. In this dim night, he looked like a wild beast, and the eleven figures behind him all showed a dangerous aura.

"Ahem, should you know what you are doing at this moment?" The man in the hat finally spoke, his voice like a mouse in the bellows. As soon as he spoke, the surrounding environment instantly returned to normal. The drinkers continued to drink happily, as if nothing had happened.

"I know that our mission collapsed and we will die when we go back, so we turned around. But our soul and soul are sealed in our eyes. Now this eyeball cannot see what we do, but in 500 years, we will die miserably, so we are here."

"Did the mission collapse? So sure, why don't you try it? You still have a lot of time. What if you can complete the task in the end, you have to know that compared to the difficulty of the mission, I don't think offending the God Lord is the best solution. Now you still have time to regret it." The man from the straw hat continued.

"It is precisely because there is still a lot of time and we can arrange it calmly that we dare to betray. We are not newbies. We know whether the task can be completed. And to put it bluntly, this task is very strange. Why were all the twelve apostles of the previous generation executed? Is it just because the task was not completed? It may not be that there are very few people who know this inside story, but it does not mean that we have no brains!"

The monk snorted coldly, and the fierce flames on his body were even stronger.

"So you stop talking nonsense. We all know your identity, the second soul that the Star God escaped. In a sense, you are him, he is you, and he is you, blocking these eyes for us, and then we owe you a favor, or you can make a price at will!"

The man in the hat was silent for a moment and said:

"Three thousand years, I can only seal you for three thousand years, and then I can't do anything about it. In addition, the 500 years you have fought for is a total of 3,500 years. When the time comes, you will definitely die, so you have to find a way for yourself, but other than that, you have to find a way to break free from this shackle. To be honest, I don't think you can do it unless my body dies, but this universe, and that universe, the people or forces that can kill my body do not exist at all."

"So, do you think about it again? Find a way to complete the task, so as to bet on the glimmer of hope in 3,500 years."

"Thank you, let's talk about the price, we are very clear about the result of this choice."

The monk answered immediately without considering it.

"Really? It's too arbitrary!" A hint of curiosity appeared in the voice of the man in the hat.

"Really, because we have been attacked by the group curse, we don't have to think about it. This task cannot be completed." The monk reached out and grabbed it, and grabbed a wisp of black smoke from above his head. The smoke kept struggling, pulling it up, and it was a sorrow of separation!

"What kind of group curse is so powerful?" The man in the straw hat said, pulling a trace of smoke curiously, but he screamed shrillly.

Because the little smoke actually wrapped around him like a snake.

"Damn it! Damn it! You little bald donkey dare to plot against me?"

The man in the hat shouted.

The monk sneered, "You are too confident. Now you should believe that we are not lying. Don't talk nonsense, let's die, or we can give you a friendly reminder to you how to lift this weird curse? Well, this little smoke has been accumulated and condensed and purified in the past three years. Brother, believe me, you will know how disgusting this thing is."

When the monk said this, his face showed a look of lingering fear.

"Okay, you guys are ruthless. I have done this deal, and I don't want your favor either, but you have to take on twelve task orders for me. Yes, don't stare. You have twelve people, that is, twelve task orders. After the task is completed, I promise that you will be lively within 3,500 years." The man in the hat laughed.

"Amitabha, I said, you won't let us kill the three clones of the God Lord, right?"

"Of course not. The task form is here. With your strength, it is guaranteed to be completed within a hundred years, and there is no big danger."

The man in the hat took out a stack of special contract letters with a bang, and each monk and others had one.

But after reading the contents of these contracts, the expression on their faces suddenly became extremely incredible, because the name written under the contract was - Qin!

In the Qin civilization, only one person is qualified to use this name, that is His Majesty the Emperor of Qin Empire, the old monster who has reigned for 350,000 years.

This is simply unimaginable, because if the truth is revealed to the world, it will probably be in chaos.
Chapter completed!