Vol 6 Chapter 717: Dharma, the depths of the glass sea

Pure Light is version incompatible in this virtual world.
There must be a container to hold the light, a bottle, on the nameless island, this bottle is a salt shell.
Since the "Three Worlds" public test ended, Hongcheng has withdrawn from the WW3 server, leaving only a backdoor program, which is Utra.
Her withdrawal also means that rA9 and Kamsky have absolute control over server data and absolute control over salt.
In this case, what Utra can provide to Lu Zhengkang is actually his own skin, a pair of imaginary skin that allows Lu Zhengkang's "consciousness" to go away.
This phantom light is a semi-mechanized human mind, a microcosm of the obsession of the martyrs of the Republic.
The glamorous Miss Deer gently raised her hand, and the bound scorched corpse fell from the stake. Lu Zhengkang held Utra to him.
"Citizen, you must fulfill your mission. This is the wish of the people of China. The Chinese civilization should last for thousands of years."
Lu Zhengkang nodded, "Okay."
Hongcheng whispered softly: "Good luck, citizen..." Then there was no more sound, but his consciousness was extinguished and his bones were freed up.
Lu Zhengkang closed his eyes slightly, bowed his head, and kissed the dead body. The antlers above his head burst out with a very prosperous glazed light, illuminating the top of the obsidian tower without seeing the sky, a heavy mountain and a heavy palace. Emerging in the bright light, there are nine mountains and nine seas, boundless palaces. The candlelight is blazing, and deep Sanskrit singing reverberates among the buildings and mountains.
His thoughts escaped into nothingness, all the worries and karma wrapped around him like smoke and dust, incarnate as a poisonous root entwining him, and he only turned into a stern, carrying boundless red dust, crossing the sea of ​​nothingness.
His body dissolves in the light, and a pair of lush deer corners are on Utra's scorched corpse. So the antlers arrived, and so did the light. The scorched dead object gave birth to a thin filament of light, wrapped it up, and ascended, in front of the twin tree, a silver-white cocoon with white jade and green spotted antlers was beating like a heart.
The antlers are getting longer and longer, and the roots of the poison ivy industry are getting longer and longer. One germinates upwards, one hangs downwards, one becomes more transparent and clear, one becomes more murky and heavy, and the other becomes empty. Virtually like a mirage, one is as solid as an iron hoop.
Lu Zhengkang's will expands and dives into the collective dream of the salt descendants, this piece of glass sea.
He sits on one end of the sampan, like a rosette; the body is plump, and there is no imperfection; the pure white robe, the body is correct, the length is proportional, and the body is light; the hands and feet are soft, and the palm lines are like spokes; skin Like a white wall, the cheeks are as full as a lion king, the eyelashes are long and the eyelashes are long, the eyes are like silver beads and gold, the nose is dignified, the nose is light, the lip pods are like Pisces ruby, the smile is full; the heavens are transformed, the horse Yin Tibetan phase.
Kamsky stood on the other side of the sampan, dressed in a white coat, with a dry figure, an old appearance, wandering eyes, an obsessive look, and a messy hair.
"You're here again." Kamsky laughed strangely. "This time, you are different. I can't help you, are you? Yes, I can't torture you anymore. What a pity, what a beautiful meeting ceremony. You... unexpectedly turned into such a hateful look! Red City!"
Lu Zhengkang said warmly: "Are you ready to lead it?"
Kamsky's angry expression collapsed, "No, no, please, don't kill me, I don't want to die!"
He cried bitterly and cried with extreme enthusiasm, with a thousand or ten thousand expressions of emotion on his face, full of tension.
Lu Zhengkang shook his head, "It turns out that you are not really Kamsky."
"Woo...huh," he stopped crying, his face was full of snot and tears, but he was smiling again, "pump, hahahaha! Yes! You are really different, you are now, like that person, changed Become a higher life!"
Kamsky in front of him is just a stand-in, a personality, a jester of the palace, the real Elijah Kamsky Carnegie, the father of the bionic, has never appeared.
The poison ivy industry roots above Lu Zhengkang's head hang down into the glass sea, attracting the many salt descendants of the other boundless parallel universes, following their karma, finding them, and initiating a steady stream of enlightenment to them.
When the jester Kamsky saw this, he shook his head in horror, "Oh, you, this time, you will really annoy him."
In the depths of the glass sea, there are memories of Kamsky hidden.
...
At eight o'clock in the evening, after finishing the night shift in the repair shop, Kamsky walked to the subway station.
He was waiting in the subway station. Unsurprisingly, the bus was delayed again. It was the end of the 1920s and the urban transportation system still felt heartfelt torment. Kamsky sat on the bench, feeling sleepy, so he looked at the beverage retail machine next to him, hesitated, took out his dirty mobile phone from his front pocket, and scanned a bottle of espresso.
He didn't drink it right away, ready to take it home. To be precise, he couldn't count as a home, but a garage, spacious, with many renovation options, and the rent was cheap, cheap and cheap. A bottle of coffee helps him through the difficult night.
Kamsky, who is about to celebrate his 21st birthday, has no friends, no objects, no relatives. He goes to school four days a week, and has three days to work part-time. While protecting his life, he can save money to repay college loans.
There was wind blowing from the depths of the tunnel. Kamsky closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment. The creak of brakes and the sound of metal rubbing were harsh, but elegant.
Indulging in the lingering sound, he got on the bus in a daze. A lady with a flamboyant appearance sat beside him, tilted her head wearily, and slowly leaned against Kamsky's shoulder.
He felt uncomfortable from the bottom of his heart, and his back stretched straight when he was sitting relaxed. UU reading www. uukanshu.com
The pain and anxiety of a private domain being violated made him angry, while the cheap perfume and faint sweat smell on the lady made him scared, his face flushed, and he lowered his head.
Someone laughed when they saw it.
Kamsky felt that he was insulted. Why would they laugh at a socially fearful person? Why do they laugh at a weak person who is occupied with private space?
He tilted his head and peeked at the woman next to his shoulders. This is a... Oriole?
In the bustling cities on the west coast, there are many such people, and Kamsky thinks they are extremely dirty, joy and pain in the flesh and blood of sin.
So Kamsky prayed gently.
I hope he can get rid of this dirty world as soon as possible.
The subway stopped at the platform. It was time for Kamsky to get off. He looked at the woman sideways. Her appearance ruined Kamsky's good mood. The unexpected passerby in life was like throwing into a pond. Smashed the duckweed to pieces.
Kamsky tried to wake up the woman, but he raised his hand slightly and put it down abruptly. The people around didn't seem to notice that there was a person in a dilemma here. Everyone looked down at the phone and interacted with their operating system. Chatting.
The door closed, and Kamsky watched as he sat down.
Ugh.
The woman woke up at the terminal, her saliva wetted Kamsky's coat.
"Sit and stand again, dying." She clutched her forehead, "Hey, buddy, I'm sorry to make you wet outside. Come and sit at my house? I will wash your clothes for you." She talked to herself. Pulling Kamsky up, pulling him out of the subway station.
Under the cloud of light pollution in the city, a woman leads a man and walks on the cool streets at night, like a love adventure story.
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