Blade and Poetry

The old place he was talking to me was the empty space in the hallway outside his office.When I arrived on time for a quick lunch, he was already there waiting.

I turned to him the page of the poem I was about to decipher, and at the same time began my analysis.However, he seemed to be distracted by some thought, and only occasionally inserted a few words quickly, his eyes lingering on the collection of poems and clocks.

"All right." He said suddenly.

This is about 5 minutes away from my estimated time.I couldn't help but feel a little regretful, and looked at the wall clock - it was more than an hour before my earliest class in the afternoon.

This time is enough to check the results of magic science.I asked him, "So can I leave now?"

"Yes." He just returned the collection of poems to me, turned halfway in the direction of leaving, and raised the corner of his mouth slyly at me, "but you have to leave with me."

Confused, I was led by him to a door on the top floor of the Literature Building, and from there I walked through the transparent porch suspended in mid-air, and came to a building that I couldn't name.I seemed to catch a glimpse of him pulling out his ID card, so I guessed that this might be a place where I had been stopped by authority.

We knocked on another door after turning eight turns, and suddenly our eyes opened up.

This is an indoor viewing platform with a hollow in the middle to form a circular flat field below. There are no seats around it, but a circle of stone railings over half of the waist is reserved, allowing people to put their arms on it. on top.The building has a quaint and rough feel; the walls and ground have not been carefully painted and decorated, and the original color of the stone is retained.

The roof has the strongest contrast with all the surroundings. It is built with flower-shaped and scroll-shaped stained glass. The style is ancient and gorgeous, and the light transmission performance is very good. Bright.

I reckon we're standing at the height of a three-story building.Karajan and I chose a stone railing to lie on our stomachs, looking down at the scene on the flat ground below.

"This is an exhibition game." Karajan rested his head on his arm and said to me very leisurely. "A group of people from the college next door came to visit. I guess they might do something next semester."

I looked around and found that the people in this circle were all familiar faces: professors and teachers from other departments—but there was no student, and there was an illusion of being brought into the restricted area.On my right is Karajan, on my left is next to a round stone pillar, and on the other side of the stone pillar is Professor Lane who seems to be very focused on the event below.I don't know if he has discovered me; but at least so far, he has not opened my mouth to expose me.

It seems to have its own set of rules here.I held my breath and watched the continuous wonderful scenes, but I never heard the cheers and applause from around.

The sounds of blades and magic clashing below could be heard endlessly, but the sunlight shone very gently through the glass on the roof, filling every corner outside the battle circle.Karajan's golden-red hair faintly glowed with a soft streamer.Everywhere seems to be stained with a warm smell, even if you lose your sense of smell, you can still feel it with your fingertips.

"It's a fascinating performance." Karajan turned his head to me at some point and said, "This is real art, isn't it?"

My eyeballs were firmly grasped by the fight below, and my whole heart was ups and downs, as if I had been stripped of the function of language, as if I was holding my own knife in my hand like them, and all my mind was tied to it.In answer, I can only say - "Yeah, I think so too."

A swordsman below happened to make a dangerous move at this moment.He lunged forward so suddenly that a small section of his hair was cut off by the blade of the opponent's head-on, but with this move he seized the upper hand.Resisting the urge to cheer for him, I tightly clenched the clothes on my chest into a ball.

Karajan suddenly leaned into my ear and asked me in a voice only the two of us could hear: "How much do you want it?"

"The longing to get even if you spend your whole life," I replied.

"Even if you get nothing?"

"I won't get nothing," I said to his profile, "I've got a lot from you, haven't I?"

He had been looking down when he was asking the question before, but now he turned to me—he seemed to have the urge to smile, but it seemed that another kind of deep spring buried it deep under the ground.His demeanor confused me for a while.

"Vicente." He quickly stopped looking at me and returned to his original posture of watching the game, "I have a gift for you, I think you might like it. If you are lucky enough to be free one day, please let me know. My exact time, so that I can best hand it over to you."

I noticed that he used "please" exceptionally.

"Okay—what a surprise. I'm sure I'll put the letter in the letter box outside your door right away. Not tonight, though," I thought of my duel date with Coleman. A guy with a bit of trouble has an appointment."

A week ago I sent Coleman the book of dueling with a letter asking him if he needed a witness.He said no.

The time is up to me, the place is up to him.On the surface, the academy forbids private fighting, but if the two duelists say that they are fighting each other, then the punishment they will receive will not be too severe-in short, it is better to keep a low profile.Coleman happened to choose the foggy forest in the east courtyard as the venue. Considering that the time was approaching the holiday, the remote practice ground was probably empty.

He and I arrived almost at the same time.Although we hardly ever have a day-to-day conversation, I have read and heard about his experiences.Judging from the last time he greeted me in the library, he had already known me through some channel.

"Good afternoon, Coleman." I was the first to break the awkward silence within three steps.

"Hello." He said, standing up straight.A pitch-black long knife emerged from his hand. "As a courtesy, before starting the battle, let me ask you the name of that knife."

"Mine." I pulled out the knife from the latch at my waist, and the handle of the knife fell out of my hand. "Its full name is 'unnamed metal knife mass-produced by the metal factory'."

I saw his ears move, and continued: "As a courtesy, may I also ask about your knife?"

"Serentian," he said briefly.

This is the meaning of "silence" in the ancient language.

"It fits your style very well." I waved the knife in the air, "Let's not talk much, let's start."

"Left-handed knife? Very good."

He nodded slightly, and we rushed towards each other.

Whenever I fight Karajan, I can always make the most direct judgment: I can't beat him.Whether it is analyzed from the physical strength, speed, skill, experience, or even the soul of the sword that he has not yet used, there is no miracle.Miracles don't happen between heaven and earth.But even so, when I drew out my knife and rushed towards him, the blood in my body would still surge, clamoring to defeat the opponent and clamoring for victory.Even if I was knocked down by him a hundred times, I would put that most primitive judgment behind me on the one hundred and first time.Every blow is aimed at the ultimate, regardless of affection - this is a respect for oneself and the other.

And now when facing Coleman, my mentality has not changed.

I knew that this man with the same talent must have undergone more intensive and intense practice than I had in my adulthood; maybe, the world is generally fair, and he would Get more results—even if I train almost desperately in this year, trying to recover the gap in those years, he is still better than me.

But when I really wield the knife, I only have the purpose of winning in my heart.

Accustomed to confronting Karajan, Coleman's every move at this time can only convey to my intuition:

He is slower than Karajan.His movements are more jerky.

I have more opportunities.

In the sky full of knife light and the clear howling of the wind piercing the air, we really stuck together and fought for only a few short moments.He actually landed on me with half a dozen knives, the heaviest of which almost went straight through my ribs - I did my best to dodge sideways when I caught it, so luckily it wasn't an opponent It was just a very deep gash; I fell on him with two knives.One knife was in close combat, I couldn't move, so I threw the knife from my left hand to my right, and the blade brushed against his cheek unexpectedly.When he cut into my ribs and stopped, I tried my best to chop his thigh.

Pain is easily overlooked in such a high-paced fight, but the impact of blood loss is getting worse.I was in a daze in front of my eyes, and I felt that the scenery was trembling heavily. The chop that was about to be released was not completed, and the whole person half-kneeled to the ground while staggering, and the tip of the knife was inserted into the soil.

After the scenery in front of me stabilized, it seemed that the air was still.The knife that was supposed to appear just now, either he hit me or I hit him.I could feel Coleman standing right in front of me, but the expected blow from him never came.

I looked up, but saw that his long knife was no longer in his hand.He pursed his lips and held out the hand that was supposed to hold the knife to me.

"Get up," Coleman said.

I worked secretly with my left hand, trying to move the fulcrum of my center of gravity away from it.

"Wait a minute. When I stand up again, we can continue."

"There's no need to continue," Coleman said. "It's over."

"So, it seems that I can't delay the fact that I lost to you." I sneered, pulled the knife out of the soil, and stood up with his hand. "You won, Coleman King."

I patted the dust off my body, resisted the urge to fall all over the nearest fog cypress, stood up straight, and saluted him as a left-handed swordsman, signaling the end of the duel.

He performed the same salute, but did not leave directly.

"I also lost to you once." He said.I thought about it hard, and thought it was about the time he lost to me in a bet last time, so I couldn't help laughing—this way of laughing touched the wound, and I felt the blood gushing out faster, so I had to put the kerchief on my clothes Tie a knot and bind the wound tightly.

Coleman frowned, as if he wanted to come over to help, but in the end he stood there without moving.

"I take back what I said about you, Vicente Sean," he said. "You remind me of another Sean. You deserve the name."

My laugh stopped immediately.

"If you even know this kind of news, then you must also know that the eldest son of the Xiao En family died of a fever when he was 13 years old. The second son is six years younger than him, and he has not yet reached the age to enter a high school " I said, "Compared to the channel through which you obtained the news—I don't know how high the channel is to allow you to dig out such secrets—I am more curious about: who are you?"

His expression still looked indifferent, but then a stiff smile emerged from the corner of his mouth—maybe it wasn't bitter, but his indifferent face added bitterness to it.It shouldn't belong to an all-time winner.

"A man with secrets, like you," he said.

I thought about his seemingly common and extremely special surname, and I had a guess in my heart.

"When will I fight with you again?" Before he left, he made a butterfly oath with me, and then said.

"There is no need to set a time." I said, "Our next duel will be in the Grand Competition in two years' time."

"Okay." He admitted, "I hope that when I meet you next time, you will be different from today."

"The same is for you."

We shook hands, then shook each other hard.He walked to a distance, and suddenly turned his head, as if he wanted to say something.

"You and Lan Duo..." He said hesitantly, "...I often hear her mention you."

I comprehended his meaning inexplicably and quickly in my dizziness, and waved: "Friend, friend, friend. A very good friend, but not a different kind of friend-even though Lando said that, isn't the story of the two of you still Did it spread throughout the school?"

He stayed where he was for a moment, nodded, turned around and ran away without explaining anything.

I remembered that during the entire duel, he didn't release his sword spirit... Maybe it's the same as I didn't release my magic.

I was finally able to relax and lean back on a foggy cypress.After a short rest, I braced myself and walked out of the forest—I couldn’t go to the school infirmary, but luckily my apartment had the necessary medicines and tools to treat my wounds.I think of all that my former home brought me, as most people in this school can get: many governesses, art training from an early age, basic medicine, basic magic.

This is actually much better than what an ordinary family can provide.Even if the word Vicente has been removed from Sean's genealogy, bid farewell to Mrs. Sean and her little Mr. Sean, bid farewell to his deceased grandfather, and bid farewell to the surname of his father who probably died in the line of duty , he was still grateful.

I walked out of the woods and looked back—it seemed that there was something golden and red, and it flashed in the iron-colored woods in that glance.