Pindao Is Really Not a Monster.

There was not even half an inch of ashes in an incense burner at Sanqing Temple in Qingyun Mountain. Lin Yan rubbed his hungry stomach and looked hopeless. "No, if you don't go down the mountain to make money, Pindao will return to the west with the Taoist temple!" Lin Yan stood up abruptly and patted the Taoist robe on his body. This robe was handed down from his master. It was washed white and the corners were frayed. At first glance, he looked like a beggar who had fled, and there was no trace of immortality at all. Carrying a rag bag on his back, he walked majestically down the mountain. Lin Yan felt very happy, thinking that with his own skills, he could just go down the mountain to catch two little monsters, draw a few amulets, and make a lot of money. When the time comes, he could rebuild a Taoist temple, eat big white steamed buns every day, and no longer have to chew wild fruits! The more he thought about it, the happier he became. The wind blew under his feet and he ran down the mountain road. However, before he could take two steps, his feet slipped and he rolled directly down the slope halfway up the mountain. The dust was flying all the way and he fell on his back. "Ouch!" Lin Yan grimaced in pain, got up and patted the dirt on his body. Looking at his mud-stained Taoist robe, he wanted to cry but had no tears. Overturning at the beginning is not a good sign...