Put two boxes of ink ingots and guilty little ink essence into your sleeves.

Ouyang Rong walked through the downtown area alone with Dongmei, who had been fed by Thirteen Niang, without any more clever thoughts.

During this period, I looked at the sun and estimated the time.

He was preparing to rush to Xunyang Ferry before the curfew in Xunyang City.

Because before seeing off last night, Hu Zhongzhi and his group were originally planning to board the boat and leave at Xunyang Ferry, but later they temporarily changed the ferry and arrived at Shuangfeng Peaks.

Therefore, Ouyang Rong's boat to Tanlang Ferry in Longcheng was also docked at Xunyang Ferry.

But Ouyang Rong is not as rushing as they did.

As he walked out of the market slowly, he led his horse on the official roads in the suburbs.

The sun sets in the west and the sky is dark.

Looking back, the golden Xunyang River water in the distance dimmed. From Ouyang Rong's perspective, he could only faintly see a black shadow on the Buddha's head of the Shenjiang River.

When Ouyang Rong was out of sight, a group of passengers came towards the official road ahead.

Most of them wore bamboo silk hats, and those who were not wearing bald heads showed their bald heads, and there were scars for receiving incense on their heads. They were uniform gray monk robes, all with certificate bags hanging on their waists, and wooden sticks holding rushing on their way.

Unlike the people in Jiangnan, they are more inclined toward northerners.

Ouyang Rong looked up, looked at the dusty monks coming towards him, pulled off the reins, and wanted to get out of the main road.

However, this group of monks stopped at the fork in front of the road. The leader was a thin middle-aged monk, who spread a map in his hand, was studying carefully in the afterglow of the sunset, and looking around from time to time.

Hesitate while hesitating.

The companion next to him came up curiously, as if urging him to ask for directions. The thin monk said to Yan Jing with a serious look on his face, but his eyes were also confused.

As a transportation hub southwest of Jiangnan Road, Xunyang has prosperous trade and large flow of ferry. There are countless foreign tourists passing by Xunyang every day, and they are wearing strange clothes and swaying. Ouyang Rong is not surprised.

He led his horse to pass by the monks not far away. After walking a few steps, a polite voice suddenly came from behind:

"Amitabha, donor, please stay, please stay."

Ouyang Rong paused slightly.

The leading thin monk had already put away the map, walked up, held his palm with one hand and bowed to him:

"Donor, can you borrow a step..."

It is the accent north of Guanlong.

Ouyang Rong made a move to fumble in his arms, then pulled it out with his hands empty-handed and shook his head:

"Sorry, Master, the poor family of Yu."

The thin monks and their companions were stunned for a moment, looking at each other, and smiling bitterly.

The thin monk took out three copper plates from his sleeve and handed them to him:

"The donor misunderstood. I didn't mean that. I wanted to ask the way. The donor can buy a bowl of wine to quench his thirst."

Ouyang Rong nodded:

"Okay, the elders cannot refuse."

A group of monks:...

He put away three copper plates with peace of mind, and asked casually under the speechless eyes of the younger monks in gray and others:

“Where are you going, the masters?”

The thin monk's expression remained unchanged and asked kindly:

"Can the donor know how to get to Xunyang Grottoes?"

This time, it was Ouyang Rong's turn to be stunned.

He asked directly:

"What are you looking for Xunyang Grottoes?"

Seeing this, the thin monk smiled and suppressed him again:

"It seems that the donor knows that, that's fine. This is the case. I am from Longyou and Dayun Temple in Jingzhou, and I came from mountains and rivers.

"I heard that Ouyang Lianghan, the governor of Jiangzhou, built a rare large grotto on the bank of Xunyang City River. In addition to the Donglin Buddha, there are hundreds of empty grottoes. I came here..."

He said slowly, and behind him, a gray-clad man was straightforward and interrupted:

"Is the donor a local? Your Xunyang City is worthy of being the most famous place in the world. It is a good place. For a hundred years, my temple has always wanted to spread Buddhism to the south and transfer it to relics."

The thin monk turned around and glared at the gray-clad monk. The latter stopped talking, and he spoke seriously:

"My temple presided over the Xunyang Grottoes has long been heard by our temple. I specially ordered my monks and my junior brothers to come to inspect the grottoes and prepare to discuss with the local government to see if we can borrow an empty grotto so that our temple can store relics and stone letters, and spread the Dharma of the South..."

Ouyang Rong became silent as he listened.

The thin monk asked:

"Donor, do you know how to get to this cave?"

The gray-clothed shaman in the back muttered a lot: "Why do you look like a dull gourd? You can't hold it up?"

Ouyang Rong was not annoyed, and was quiet for a moment. He turned around and pointed to the path he had come:

"Here."

Everyone looked at it.

In the direction pointed, the water of the dark river was tirelessly washing away the head of a certain Buddha, but it was dark and hard to see with the naked eye.

The monks finally found their way, and showed a cheerful expression. The thin monk who led the lead bowed to Ouyang Rong and suddenly asked again:

"Thank you, donor... By the way, has the donor ever met Ouyang Lianghan, the governor of Jiangzhou?"

Ouyang Rong asked, "What's wrong with this person?"

"It's okay, I'm just a little curious about this gentleman in the south. People in the world say that he is upholding the truth. When the master of this temple heard about his deeds, he said that he has the appearance of Buddha and can promote the Southern Transmission of the Northern Buddha, and has immeasurable merits... If you can meet, it would be worth this trip."

Ouyang Rong shook his head and said seriously:

"What kind of Buddha's appearance is all about human appearance, and what you see is all about vulgarity."

The gray-clothed silly man who loved to mutter was immediately dissatisfied and said in dissatisfaction:

"This is not a common man. If the donor knows what he has done, he will not speak wildly. Seeing that you are a scholar wearing a Confucian shirt, if you know that he still says so, then the donor is really crazy."

Ouyang Rong still shook his head gently:

"I'm not a crazy person, I'm a plain person."

"Okay, Yikong, don't be rude."

The thin monk stopped his companions and smiled apologetically.

But they didn't say anything but a long sentence, and they didn't ask about the name. They passed by this "crazy and ordinary person" and went all the way, rushing to the place where they admired him like a lesson.

Ouyang Rong stayed there and watched their backs disappear.

After that, he stood silent for a long time.

The sight seemed to be at the location of Xunyang Grottoes on the north bank.

But it is hard to see clearly. The dark and Buddhaless grottoes standing on the north bank have been stolen by the lights at the Shuangfengjian Ferry Crossing on the south bank.

Ouyang Rong's mind was unconsciously remembered the first Master Shandao who came to ask for an empty cave.

"Is the merit immeasurable?... It's really too much... Master, you're right. Although the Great Buddha is destroyed, there is a Buddha inside..."

At this moment, the sky was completely dark, and there were bright lights at Xunyang City and Shuangfengjian Ferry at both ends of the official road. The official road was dark and the specific faces of the people could not be seen clearly.

The young man in Confucian clothes came back to his senses and seemed to smile.

He raised his hand to hold the white hairpin on his head, held the horse with a smile, and turned his back to the Xunyang Grottoes that "like destroying Buddhas", and slowly left.

In front of him were the lights of thousands of houses, which turned into light in his eyes.

...

The morning bell in Donglin Temple is still 108 times.

The same is true for the evening bell.

One hundred and eight days and nights.

After a new rain today, the air is clear and spiritual in the mountains.

The morning bell echoes the mountains and forests, the green leaves sway, and the forests move, revealing the eaves of the temples hidden among the lush green leaves.

"Ming Mansion came from afar, and I am really ashamed of being welcomed by you."

"It's okay."

In the temple and on the corridor, Ouyang Rong and Master Shandao walked slowly and chatted with each other.

"I'm going to go to Xunyang in two days to check out the main cave, and then ask when the Ming Mansion will come to recuperate. I didn't expect that the Ming Mansion will come so soon, and this time I'm still alone... Is the Ming Mansion going in and asking for an incense stick?"

Master Shandao stopped in front of the Main Hall, spread his hands with a smile and signaled.
To be continued...