Diablo Honmaru and Asceticism

When I saw Yaki Hasebe again, he was standing outside the window looking at the monk.

In the room, the monk stood by the window and didn't know what to look at, but slowly fell asleep.

Since the monk was sealed away, Yaki Hasebe had never appeared in front of him again, and only occasionally came to have a look when the monk was asleep.

The faint light and shadow blurred between the monk's brows and eyes, and Kakiri Hasebe stood outside, looking at the monk intently, his eyes fell on the monk's face, as if he was looking at his only belief devoutly.

Chuer, the monk's drooping eyelashes moved, as if he was about to wake up.

Hasebe was taken aback for a moment, turned around and was about to leave.

"Where to go."

A warm and cool voice sounded from behind, and it fell into my ears like thunder.

"You..." Yaki Hasebe's back trembled, and he clenched his fists. He stood there for a long time, but finally couldn't hold back, and slowly turned around.

"Isn't it very... difficult to see." Hasebe wanted to stretch out his hand to cover his face, but he stretched halfway and put it down.

Fu Sangshen's original handsome face, starting from the lower jaw, has grown a very shallow exoskeleton, gray and white bones, just like the time-traveling army they have wiped out countless times.On the small piece of his neck and wrists that were exposed outside the underwear, there were deep and shallow scars, which were originally reversed bone spurs, which he forcibly gouged out.

Yaki Hasebe didn't want the monk to see his ugly appearance corrupted by desire.

"Nothing." The monk shook his head and stopped talking.

Hasebe was silent on the spot. He moved his Adam's apple and wanted to say something. Countless emotions flowed, but in the end he forcefully suppressed it on the tip of his tongue.

"That's it..."

In the end, the monk still sighed, and he waved to Hasebe with helplessness and compromise.

"You come."

Hasebe, who was pressing and cutting, hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

He stood in front of the window, and the monk was standing inside the window. Through the barrier, he seemed to be able to feel the warm breath of the monk's breath.

Hasebe stood up straight at a loss, unable to speak.

"Give me your hand."

So he reached out and put his arm through the window.

The slender palms were covered with mottled knife marks.

The monk stretched out his hand to hold Hasebe's palm, and a faint golden light rose from the intertwined fingers of the two, winding its way up Hasebe's arm.

The scars on the skin melted like ice and snow in this gentle light, the bony spurs that were about to move disappeared, and the bony mask on his face faded away, revealing Fu Sangshen's clean side face.

"Don't point a knife at yourself in the future."

"The white bones under the skin are all appearances, all falsehood."

The monk withdrew his hand and said flatly, "Why be persistent."

Cutting Hasebe raised his head, and saw the monk's clear eyes.

He said, why bother.

Numerous obscure emotions welled up in his chest, Yaki Hasebe pressed his chest, staggered back a few steps, turned and fled.

"Did you see that? That's what Fu Sangshen, who has fallen into darkness, looks like."

Tsurumaru Kuninaga's laughing voice sounded from not far away, he squinted his eyes, with a casual smile on his face.

The monk looked at him calmly.

The white-haired Fu Sangshen seemed to be smiling all the time.

"You appeared in time at the beginning, so I couldn't see it." Tsurumaru Kuninaga said: "If you came one step later, we probably have completely fallen into darkness."

"It will become a worse monster." He stretched out his hand and gestured: "The bone spur on the face will probably have..."

"Hey, it's so long."

The monk looked at the youthful Fu Sangshen's clear and beautiful appearance, and was speechless for a moment.

"But you must have no chance." Tsurumaru Kuninaga restrained his smile, approached a little, and his tone was a little gloomy. He stood in front of the monk, with complicated and inexplicable emotions in his eyes.

Won't show you that ugly gesture, before I'm completely destroyed.

"So..." Tsurumaru Kuninaga stared at the monk and asked, "Do you still have to go?"

The monk looked at him silently.

In the bright light outside the window, the monk stood in his own light, compassionate but ruthless like a Buddha statue.

"Why..." Maybe such a request will never be answered, Tsurumaru Kuninaga's voice suddenly became hoarse, and he looked at the monk who hadn't given an answer for a long time, and his golden eyes, which were always smiling, were collapsed. emotions gradually submerged.

"You always say that the Buddha saves all living beings." Tsurumaru growled almost in despair, "Is it because we are just swords?"

"So you don't care, so you have to go, so the sword can be thrown away at will."

"Because it's just a summoned Fusangshen, so it doesn't matter if one of them disappears?"

"Similar, same, dispensable..."

He closed his eyes in pain, and when he opened them again, there was only a dark red in his gilt pupils that seemed about to cry blood.

"But..." Tsurumaru Kuninaga grabbed the monk's skirt with one hand, pinched the monk's chin, and kissed him suddenly.

"Tsurumaru Kuninaga with such feelings."

"only me."

A gnawing kiss fell on the lips, and the bright red blood flowed between the lips of the two, and fell drop by drop on the monk's pure-colored monk's robe.

Printed a string of weeping blood-like traces.

The monk snorted and took a step back in shock, but was held back by Tsurumaru Kuninaga, deepening the kiss.

In fact, falling into darkness is not unbearable, death is not unbearable, and being in such an embarrassing state is not unbearable either.

The only thing I can't stand is losing you.

The Buddha saves all living beings, why doesn't he save me.

If you can't keep it after all, then I will get you completely.

The transparent barrier swayed with scattered light, Tsurumaru Kuninaga pressed the monk tightly, bent his knees and pushed him against the wall.

To cross people or to cross oneself?

It is rare to find a universal way in the world. To cross over others is to cross oneself.

The warm sandalwood was faint, and the white hair brushed on the face turned black inch by inch. The monk looked at the dark red congealed in Tsurumaru's eyes, the madness mixed with despair, the willingness to get out of the mud and fall into it voluntarily.

He sighed inwardly, and finally closed his eyes gently.

He can't even cross himself, so how can he talk about crossing others.

The skirt was broken, and the white robes were scattered, revealing the wrapped body.

The fair skin was covered with soft muscles and bones, and Tsurumaru Kuninaga lowered his head and bit down on the slightly sunken collarbone.

If it is destined that only one can be fulfilled...

The faint fishy sweetness in the throat gradually disappeared, and the faint light on the jade pendant that fell on the Buddha beads circulated and slowly went out.

Rubbing the clothes, the Buddhist beads on the monk's wrist fell to the ground with a clatter.

The scorching temperature was like a wildfire in a prairie prairie, the monk's cold face was flushed with force, and his expression of forbearance seemed to disappear in a flash.

The belt that was more than three fingers wide was tied around the eyes, the hazy light disappeared, and only the temperature and movement of Tsurumaru Kuninaga's fingertips could be felt.

His vision was wiped out, his hearing was blocked, and something cold fell onto his naked chest.

The sandalwood beads wrapped around the wrists on weekdays slid down the waist and abdomen all the way down to the legs, and the white fingers held the beads and wrapped them tightly around them.

The monk struggled a bit, but was pressed tightly against the cold wall, and the hot body in front of him pressed against him.

There was a slight ripping sound, and Tsurumaru Kuninaga bowed his head and hugged the person in his arms tightly, and smiled bitterly and tenderly.

At least for now, you can't go there either.

****

Do you regret it?

The monk fell asleep exhaustedly, but a voice rang in his ears when he was drowsy.

When he opened his eyes, there was boundless darkness in front of him, as if everything in the world ceased to exist, and he was alone, holding a Buddha lotus in his palm, standing silently in this nothingness.

He stretched out his hand to touch the endless darkness in front of him. In the dim vision, the golden lotus petals began to wither from the fingertips, and along with the trajectory of the fingers, they spread all over the ground.The place where the lotus flower fell was at his feet, flickering on and off, and a small circle was faintly reflected on his body.

Regret?

I don't know whose voice sounded.

He held the Buddha lotus in his palm, and when he heard this, he just bent his lips and did not finish his sentence.

Nothing to regret.

Looking at his hand that suddenly became translucent, he remembered the absurdity that seemed to be in a dream, and smiled faintly.

It's just a catastrophe.

If you don't cross, don't cross.

The author has something to say: the car that has been held back for two hours, the stream-of-consciousness trolley is also a car!

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Your baby is dead [paralyzed]

In addition, I opened a reader group some time ago. The Penguin group number is 482106597. There are probably no car repairs […], but the little angels can chat together when they join the group. At present, the main updates are Dao Jian Wen and Zong Jian San Swordsmanship, the author's brain is exploding, and the pitfalls behind will probably be written first depending on what you want to see.