i have a sword fairy

It looked at the quiet courtyard outside and the strange gazes cast by those people, thought for a while, and seriously said to the sword master:

"Can you send me away too? Mr. Zhao Dashan."

Zhao Rong shook his head, "No."

"This day is your uncle."

It turned out to be a new curse, and it was not yin and yang, very manly.

Zhao Rong was slightly taken aback, then smiled.

At this time, Qin Jianfu snorted softly, and slowly looked away, looking at Zhao Rong.

Did not go after that handsome girl.

The disfigured old Confucian scholar glanced at the young Confucian scholar.

Then, he laughed too.

Although the ending was unexpected, the old man was quite satisfied.

Zhao Rong also looked up at him with a brighter smile on his face.

So the old and the young and the two Confucian scholars were all smiling.

Those who didn't know thought it was a pair of close seniors and juniors.

They don't know that there is a deep blood feud between the two, and one will die today.

The old Confucian scholar nodded and said with a smile, "That's fine."

As the words fell, he bullied himself before and took a big hand towards Zhao Rong.

The young Confucian scholar was already very content. He first said with a smile to Gui, who was yelling at him in the heart lake, "Listen and study hard later", and then he laughed and cursed directly:

"I want to beat my father? If your father frowns, I will continue to be your father in the next life..."

As he spoke, he wanted to draw the sword at his waist, but just as his hand touched the hilt, the next second his wrist was grabbed by a hand with skinny fingers.

Zhao Rong's right hand was twisted into an astonishing arc, and then there was a sound of bone cracking.

The disfigured old Confucian came to him lightly, first crushed his wrist bone, and then removed all the moves he had resisted. Holding Zhao Rong's fractured wrist with five fingers, he continued to use force to shake the shattered wrist bone. It was pinched into tiny bones smaller than a fingernail.

"Ah... uh!!"

Zhao Rong's eyes were shattered, but he gritted his teeth, puffed out his cheeks, and restrained himself from screaming.

The Wenjian fell to the ground.

This writing hand is completely useless.

Qin Jianfu glanced at his frowning brows. The broken bone on Zhao Rong's wrist pierced the skin and flesh, and the blood dripped all over the old man's skinny five fingers like eagle claws.

Qin Jianfu swung his hand from side to side slowly, so Zhao Rong's right hand, whose wrist bone was broken, also swayed weakly from side to side in the autumn wind, like a rag doll broken by a child.

The smell of blood filled the yard.

The old man smiled even more, and this was just the beginning.

He first blocked another punch from the young Confucian scholar 'soft', and then with a withered finger, he gently picked out the tendon in the bloody mass of blood on his wrist, pinched it, and pulled it out.

Bright red blood splattered continuously.

Zhao Rong's heart was in pain, his teeth were bleeding, and his body centered on the disused right hand, twisted and fell down in pain.

The old man gently took the hand of the man who fell to the ground, feeling that it was still not enough, he looked at Zhao Rong's desperately holding back, and nodded with a smile.

Then, gently helped Zhao Rong pull out his right arm, and threw it behind his shoulder.

"Ah ah ah ah ah--!"

There was a hoarse roar.

The severed arm of the young Confucian scholar fell to the ground, splashing blood and dust.

The old Confucian scholar turned a deaf ear, stretched out his bloody withered hand, and wiped Zhao Rong's snow-white collar carefully, then reached out to pick up a cup of tea from the table next to him, and moistened his throat.

He glanced at Zhao Rong, who was clutching his broken arm on the ground and writhing in pain, and wrote lightly: "Call out louder, heh, this is just the beginning, why don't you try the fire later?"

The young Confucian scholar bulged his cheeks with a distorted smile, holding back his voice.Only a few words were squeezed out between the teeth.

The sound is a little small.

The disfigured old Confucian scholar put down his teacup, bent over to listen.

"...Old... Laoer use a little force... Didn't eat... Did you eat haha..."

The old man nodded, and at the next moment, with a bang, he stepped firmly on Zhao Rong's high head, making his right temple stick to the ground.

There was a pit in the ground.

It is the shape of Zhao Rong's head.

Qin Jianfu lowered his eyes and glanced down.

However, the young Confucian scholar who had his head trampled on laughed, his mouth was bloody, the corners of his eyes were cracked, and the bridge of his nose was broken, but his smile was extraordinarily bright.

"...didn't...eat...food?"

In a certain heart lake, a certain purple-clothed sword spirit who turned his head away and couldn't bear to look at it suddenly laughed when he heard the words. It was on a tall building by the lake, clutching its stomach, and laughed endlessly.

Qin Jianfu sneered, thinking of the next method of torturing him, which would make him miserable.

The head of the young Confucian scholar was stepped on, and his vision was already blurred.

He was very unwilling. If it was just a competition of physique, Zhao Rong's physique of a different kind of flood dragon could not beat this old Confucian scholar's physique.

This old bastard has a fourth-grade golden elixir, with spiritual energy cultivation.

These bless Qin Jianfu's body, and at the same time, the spiritual energy allows him to use various Confucian spells and realm coercion, so Zhao Rong is tortured like this, powerless to fight back...

The disfigured old Confucian scholar stepped on his head, squatted down slowly, and heard a murmur coming from under his feet.

"Children of the Zhao family... shed the blood of the mysterious bird of fate... you should hold your sword... and go... to die."

The young Confucian scholar with a broken arm lowered his head, and slowly stretched out his other hand, as if crawling with five fingers, trying to grab the Wenjian left by his mother not far away.

Qin Jianfu watched with great interest and did not stop him.

He raised his head slightly, and took a deep breath with great satisfaction. This is the smell brewed by the pain of the Confucian scholars under his feet, and it is the smell of revenge. Zhao Rong's pain is the most delicious food in the eyes of the old man.

"My... and my son were all caused by you, Zhao Ziyu, I want you to experience it too..."

feet.

The left hand that was 'crawling' hard with blood finally touched the hilt of Wenjian.

The blood-red spikes of the sword became even brighter in the sun.

Qin Jianfu opened his eyes again, this time, his eyes were indifferent and cruel.

At the same time, the hand on the ground finally grasped the hilt of the sword tremblingly, and pulled it out gently.

Qin Jianfu, who was about to sneer, suddenly froze.

I saw, on this Wenjian sword that was re-inserted back into the scabbard by a woman in Confucian shirt not long ago, there was a... Faint ink color emerged.

In the blink of an eye, the disfigured old Confucian scholar staggered and stepped on the ground.

The young Confucian scholar with a broken arm disappeared...

The old man's face changed slightly, but he turned his head suddenly.

This time it was heading south.

"...One hundred miles, only one hundred miles... Hehe... Do you really think you can run away? This is not bad, it's even more interesting, run away until you are completely desperate..."

The disfigured old scholar couldn't help showing a cruel smile.

Then his expression froze and he regained his composure.

First, he didn't worry about the cat-and-mouse game, he patted his sleeve leisurely, and then stretched out his hand to the side.

Zhang Huizhi stood up with a complex expression and walked forward.

He paused halfway, avoiding the severed arm left by someone on the road, made a small circle, walked to Qin Jianfu, and handed the Lin Lu Scholar Jade Bi to the old man.

The old Confucian scholar pinched a formula with his fingers, and imposed a restraint on the jade bi, which was shining brightly red after a hundred meters away from the owner, suppressing the red light of the Chuanxun Academy, and then threw it into the gray cigarette bag to completely block it.

"Good job, will."

Qin Jianfu nodded slightly, turned around and wanted to leave.

"Teacher..." The young Confucian scholar suddenly said.

The old Confucian scholar paused slightly, "What is it?"

"That person... can that person really do it..." The tone was hesitant.

"I heard from that person that the water in Dali is very deep and involves many, many old almanacs. However, with that person here, you can rest assured and just wait quietly. He will find you again, just like before. It’s like finding an old man all of a sudden... Meeting him, keeping the royal family safe is just a simple matter. If you have any vision and ambitions, tell him boldly, and do it boldly. He will help you, as long as you promise something insignificant conditions."

As the words fell, the disfigured old Confucian figure suddenly disappeared from the courtyard.

One breath for ten miles, heading south.

All that was left was a mess of blood and dust in the courtyard, and a lonely Confucian scholar who silently bowed his head and hands.

At the feet of the lonely Confucian scholar, there is a severed arm of a man lying quietly.

The sound of the boy copying books from the desk in the north room is still there.

The dull boy didn't hear what was going on outside the window, lowered his head and wrote over and over again:

Establish a heart for the world, establish a life for the living and the people, inherit the knowledge of the past, and create peace for everything.

"Private morality...public morality...private morality...public morality..."

The lonely Confucian scholar bent down murmuringly, picked up the broken arm, lowered his head, wiped it with his sleeve, and walked away waddlingly.

……

Chapter 524 Alive and Mrs. Big Breasts

It is about a hundred miles south of the small courtyard in the bamboo forest.

By the bank of a rushing river, under a tree, a certain figure suddenly appeared here, and at this moment, the black mana enveloping his body was slowly dissipating.

The figure of an injured man appeared on the ground. The snow-white clothes on his body were soaked in blood and covered with dust and bamboo leaves.

One of his sleeves was empty, and he fell to the ground, breathing weakly.

Beside him fell a Wenjian.

Quiet for a moment.

"Wake up, Zhao Rong!" Gui observed the situation, and quickly called out...

Soon.

Zhao Rong, awakened by the urging of the sword spirit, turned over, fell on his back on the grass, freed up his remaining left hand, and grabbed a large amount of elixir to heal his injuries from the Xumiwu in his bosom.

Many of them came from the state treasury.

The young Confucian scholar's face was bloodstained, his breath was like a thread, and his left hand trembled as he poured bottles of pills on the ground.

Then his left hand fumbled wildly on the ground, grabbed a handful of elixir mixed with mud, sand and dust, and swallowed it with difficulty like swallowing a jujube...

Sword Spirit anxiously felt the gradually stabilizing energy in his body, and was slightly relieved.

At first, Zhao Rong felt a stagnant qi and blood stuffing in his chest, his breathing was not smooth, and he was about to suffocate, but soon, as the effects of these priceless panacea evaporated, he finally passed the most difficult moment. Come on.

"It's still Zhu Yourong who understands you."

Gui suddenly sighed.

At this time, the young Confucian scholar was panting heavily, lying on his back on the grass, his eyes wide open, and he looked at the gradually darkening sky in a daze.

He subconsciously wanted to stretch out his right hand, but found that his right hand was gone, so he grinned self-mockingly, stretched out his left hand and grabbed the Wenjian on the ground on the right side of his body with difficulty.

Zhao Rong raised the Wenjian horizontally and held it in front of his eyes, staring blankly at the place where Zhu Yourong quietly left a 'stroke'.

Zhu Yourong deceived him a little bit.

She only wrote two words.

One "forever" and one "positive".