i have a sword fairy

Zhao Rong was willing to take the bait, but he just used his tricks.

"It's fine if you can survive one..."

He lowered his head tiredly, not looking at the disfigured old Confucian scholar who had suddenly recovered.

He rubbed his face, and then he was about to touch the white jade tablet and the clever sachet on his waist for the last time.

When the vision of red leaves in the bamboo forest just appeared and a dark-faced old man in Confucian shirt stood in front of Zhao Qian'er, Qin Jianfu, who was coughing frantically and preparing to smoke a gun to save his life, suddenly withdrew his painful expression.

The old man straightened his waist, his face was indifferent, and he first glanced at the place where the weeping girl left like a decoy.

He looked back at the young Confucian scholar who hadn't completely fallen for it.

This kid stayed?but……

"Don't even try to run, ho ho..."

The disfigured old scholar suddenly laughed.

In the next moment, the old Confucian scholar followed a locked air mechanism, and his figure suddenly disappeared in place.

Zhao Rong suddenly raised his head and looked at the empty courtyard.

Shocked and broke out in a cold sweat.

Sure enough, three breaths were not enough.

Something that took his breath away happened!

The figure of the old Confucian scholar suddenly appeared on the spot. This time, with his five fingers like the withered claws of a vulture, he grabbed the shoulder of a crying red-eyed girl.

brought her back.

In the other hand of the old man, there was a broken and withered maple leaf between two fingers.

Around the courtyard, the red leaves of the forest are rustling.

Qin Jianfu looked at Zhao Rong coldly, closed his hands together, and crushed the red maple leaf not long ago.

The bamboo forest was completely dissipated by the smoky red bamboo leaves.

The corner of the old man's mouth was half a smile, he let go of his five fingers, and waved away the maple leaf dust.

Zhao Rong's mood plummeted.

His back was drenched in cold sweat.

It was the worst scenario he'd ever wanted to think about.

Gui Ning said: "Your cultivation base is too low, and you still don't know if you are locked into the air mechanism. If you don't have the shielding means of high-level monks, then no matter how fast you escape, as long as you are within a thousand miles, you will be blocked within three breaths." The monks in the golden core state locked the air mechanism and found it."

"Thousands of miles... three breaths..."

Zhao Rong took a deep breath.

He whispered the lost words of the sword spirit, lowered his head, and reached out to search for something in his sleeve.

Not far away, the disfigured old Confucian scholar who went back and forth did not immediately deal with the weeping girl.

He grabbed him immediately and looked at Zhao Rong's expression, as if he wanted to see some kind of expression that would make him extremely comfortable.

Only those who hate the most know that the most important thing about revenge is not to kill, but to torture the hated, and mental torture is greater than physical torture.

But the reaction of the young Confucian scholar in front of him made him a little curious.

The old Confucian scholar looked at the busy young Confucian scholar with his head down very interestingly.

Zhao Rong suddenly felt a warm heat around his waist, it was Qingjun's white jade token.

The beauty was missing him from afar, rubbing the Moyu card lightly.

The young Confucian scholar lowered his head and kept moving his hands. He had no time to respond this time.

And probably in the future.

Zhao Rong took out the Wenjian left by his mother from Xumiwu, and straddled his waist.

He remembered Mr. Yan once said.

When a gentleman dies, the crown is unavoidable, and the color does not change.

In memory, the gentle mother whose face has long been blurred said again.

The son of the Zhao family should go to death with his sword in hand.

Finally... Thinking about it carefully, Zhao Ziyu seems to be a cheap sword master.

There is a cheap sword spirit, although it has not been as good as it wanted, and it is disgusted by it, but it can't really be looked down upon, can it?

In the courtyard where the autumn wind was blowing suddenly, the young Confucian scholar supported the hilt of the sword with one hand, straightened his waist, raised his hand with the other, and supported the crown of his head.

In the heart lake, Gui was a little vigilant and said, "What are you doing?"

Zhao Rong's tone suddenly felt a little regretful, "It's a pity, I was going to give this old beast a hard punch, but I still look like a gentleman, and I'm still... the Peach Blossom Sword Master, so gentle."

Sword Spirit: "..."

"Let's say it one last time, it's called Fushiya, it's not some shit!"

"Oh."

Zhao Rong nodded slightly, and suddenly said, "Gui, I've actually had a problem this year, and I don't know if I should talk about it or not."

"It's inappropriate to say it. Don't say it." Jian Ling was very shameless.

The sword master smiled, he was speaking in a declarative tone, not a questioning tone.

Well, it's your turn, the little sword spirit, to object?

He smiled and said, "For a handsome sword master like me, do you really dislike me or are you fake..."

Without even thinking about it, Sword Spirit said decisively: "I really hate it."

The young Confucian scholar choked, then burst out laughing, and nodded with a bright smile.

He is really happy.

As we all know, the words of the sword spirit should be listened to in reverse.

Then, the sword master suddenly restrained his face.

In the small courtyard of the bamboo forest, Zhao Ziyu of the Fuyao Realm, with a seven-foot body, raised his head calmly, straightened his clothes, silently looked directly in front of the fourth-rank Jindan Realm old Confucian scholar, and ran forward with his sword in an instant.

Today's autumn is rustling, and it is advisable to die.

Qin Jianfu's originally calm pupils shrank.

Seeing this humble ant that could be crushed to death with one hand, he didn't even think about dying, and took the initiative to seek death.

Since his appearance, the old Confucian scholar, who has always expressed true or false expressions, but has always maintained a cat-and-mouse-like teasing mentality, suddenly burst into an inexplicable anger.

Angry for no reason!

The young Confucian scholar ran forward faster and faster.

He rushed towards the old Confucian scholar.

The blood-red fringe hanging from Wenjian's hilt covered the back of his hand holding the sword.

The five fingers pinched the bluish white and lost blood.

The old Confucian student took a sharp step, "Little bastard, court death!"

The young Confucian scholar silently drew his sword.

In the heart lake, on a tall building, the purple-clothed sword spirit looked down at the dark blue and glazed dragon carp in the lake, sighing and laughing.

In the courtyard.

The old Confucian scholar was furious, he threw the handsome girl with blurred eyes aside with his big hand, and pulled out the old copper dry pipe violently, at the same time, the wrath of the golden core produced a terrifying force field as heavy as ten thousand meters within a hundred meters of the old man's body .

The young Confucian scholar stagnated slightly, like a bullfight crashing into an invisible quagmire, his speed getting slower and slower.

His seven orifices were bleeding, and the direction the sword pointed in his hand remained unchanged.

an inch...

one cent...

a centimeter...

When people enter, the sword advances, when people die, the sword stops.

Qin Jianfu laughed angrily.

Holding the copper dry bong in his big hand, he threw it directly at the Tianling Cap of the young Confucian scholar who was one meter closer to him.

then……

Then a woman took the place of the young Confucian scholar and gently took the sword in his hand.

And then.

Jindan Zhiwei's copper dry bong was shattered.

The whole place was silent.

It turned out that it was the palm of Zhao Rong's sword-holding hand, where a female student from the academy had secretly written twice, and suddenly a large amount of ink gushed out.

The source of ink color is the word 'Yong' and the word 'Zheng'.

Ten strokes, plain and simple.

But it can be disassembled to form all the saint-made characters in the world.

The ink color is like fog and water, rendering it.

The whole bamboo forest courtyard is like being covered with a layer of landscape canvas.

A quiet and dignified woman in Confucian shirt walked out of the landscape painting and came between two Confucian scholars, one young and one old, who were about to collide.

With a blurred face, she gently stopped her dying confidant Lan Yan with one thin hand, and took the Wenjian in his hand with the other.

The woman in the Confucian shirt turned her back on the disfigured old Confucian scholar, lowered her head, and inserted the Wenjian back into the scabbard around the waist of the dazed young Confucian scholar.

Then she gently adjusted the corners of his clothes.

Behind the woman, the dropped copper bong shattered silently.

Her dark Confucian shirt figure also faded by half.

Like ink thinned by clear water.

The woman in the Confucian shirt seemed to have nothing happened, her slender figure remained motionless.

She raised her blurred face slightly, and shook her head slightly at Zhao Rong.

Zhu Yourong's external body projection can't speak, but to someone, it seems to be able to convey that sentence...

Ziyu, you are not allowed to die.

Her tone is commanding.

Zhao Rong was silent.

……

A Confucian woman in a Confucian shirt who loves to write in ink knew about it a long time ago.

For the seven-foot man she had a crush on, it was only when he thought about death.

He is the one who will really die.

Otherwise, who can kill him?

Chapter 523 Qian'er travels a thousand miles, Tzuyu a hundred miles

Zhao Rong didn't want to die.

He made an appointment with Qing Jun to pick a bright moon for her to go back.

He promised Su Xiaoxiao that he would exchange her for a bright moon that is unique in the sky and only on earth.

He promised Qian'er that he would love and cherish her forever and count the stars with her for the rest of his life.

Zhao Rong didn't want to die, but.