[Comprehensive martial arts] Beauty under the skirt

The stars and rain sleep at night, and the dawn moon is in the sky.

From behind the dark clouds, Yinsuo slowly revealed a gleam of bright light.

In the lakeside inn, the flickering candlelight reflected on the face of the girl holding a needle and thread in front of the window, adding a touch of tenderness for no reason.

This is Wu Qun's first time mending clothes for others.

The tiny needle tip accidentally pricked the finger, and the blood dripped slowly on the white gauze.

It was still raining outside the window, and the plantains were falling continuously, and the dancing candles were bright and difficult to see.

Like the most ordinary wife in the world, she mends clothes for her husband who is traveling far away.

The buttons were already sewn on, Wu Qun looked at Ye Yu outside the window, and sighed slightly.

The alien was still sitting outside the door, holding the scimitar in both hands, his dark gray hair set off his pale face, making him look even colder.

He is a rare good skin in the world, if he hadn't met her, how could he be so down and out.

The eyes of the young man in black were tinged with blue, and the blood on his face dried up along the corners of his eyes, even when he was asleep, he was quite cold.

Wu Qun lightly brushed his slightly pale thin lips, and suddenly she bent her eyes.

"You already know that I'm a trouble, why don't you leave?"

Her voice was too soft, barely audible on this rainy night.

Kalubi's hand holding the scimitar moved imperceptibly, but he still didn't wake up in the end.

With his skill, even if he is tired, he shouldn't be so slack, unless someone moves his hands and feet.

The candlelight in the house was always beating, revealing a glimmer of light in the corridor.

Wu Qun gently put the clothes on him.

The girl's face was gentle, her eyes were like the bright moon hanging high in the Gedoran Desert, melancholy and moving.

"Hey, I'm leaving."

She smiled slightly at the frowning young man, and the dimples on her lips faded away.

Kalubi seemed to feel it, the veins on his slender knuckles were suppressed, but he still failed to grasp the leaving snow yarn.

The last words Wu Qun whispered in his ear were: "You and I met by chance, now"

"—Take care of yourself."

Cold tears dripped down on the man's face, the beauty's eyes were bent while biting her lip, but the long eyelashes were shattered and melted.

A beauty's tears are the sharpest knife in the world, no matter how hard-hearted a man is, they can't bear it.

At the other end of the stairs, the white-clothed monk who was spinning the rosary paused slightly with his fingertips, not knowing whether his trip down the mountain was right or wrong.

The drizzle was like fog, and the sky outside Hangzhou gradually became clearer.

Wu Qun walked ahead with downcast eyes.

She didn't know where she was going and just walked quietly.Under the white cloak, Bi Luo's skirt was covered with mist, making her look a little pitiful.

It rained heavily last night, and some gravel remained in the wet soil this morning. The girl frowning slightly kicked the stone lightly, and felt even more sad when the embroidered shoes were stained with mud.

"You are satisfied, why are you still following me?"

She asked.

The beauty's tone was slightly annoyed, but it also sounded soft and lovely.

Du Deng shook his head slightly: "The benefactor has lost all his martial arts, and it is always unsafe to walk alone."

The monk in white had clear eyebrows, looked at the girl with reddish eye circles in front of him, and unconsciously softened his voice.

He has always been indifferent and ignorant of the world, and it is rare to be like this now.

Wu Qun knew that what he said was not wrong, and now the whole world is about that portrait, if she is alone, accidents will inevitably happen.

The girl didn't turn her head, but she also acquiesced to the monk following her.

The two walked out of the city.

It was almost noon, and the rain that had stopped for a while last night started to fall heavily again.

The wind blew the thin gauze and shivered coldly, Wu Qun gently wrapped her hands around herself, lowering her head, her eyes were blurred.

Such weather is a good day to kill.

In the ruined temple not far away, several Dongying people holding guns looked at each other and slowly backed out.

A man stood in front of the broken palm Buddha statue.

With white hair and eyes closed, it was Ye Ying, the owner of the Tibetan Sword Villa.

Even in such a drowsy weather, the handsome and gentle young man still made people dare not look directly at him.

The masked Dongying man held the knife tightly in his hand, and gradually formed a sword formation under his feet.

These people's martial arts are tricky and weird, and this sword array method has caused countless martial arts masters to suffer.

The wind whistled and the fallen flowers on the soil brushed all over the ground, inexplicably revealing a bit of sadness.

Blood splashed on the delicate embroidered shoes, Wu Qun slightly raised her eyes, and saw the sword piercing the sky.

The sword light pierced a ray of light from the dark clouds and mist, as if life and death were interrupted, and the four seasons were gradually distinguished.

This kind of sword intent is extremely rare in Jianghu.

Du Deng glanced at the fallen Japanese warrior, and sighed slightly.

At some point in the ruined temple, there were three people.

The fire made of dry wood was crackling, and Wu Qun sat in the corner with her knees hugged.

The white cloak on her body was already soaked, and the hair on her temples was slowly dripping with water, making her look even more gorgeous.

If someone enters this temple at this time, they will be shocked.

A monk in white, a blind youth, and a frail and peerless beauty.

Three seemingly unrelated people unexpectedly appeared in a ruined temple at the same time.

The patter of raindrops fell, and a flash of thunder flashed, reflecting the angry eyes of the Buddha statue.Blood flowed slowly on the steps outside the ruined temple, and was driven into the soil by the torrential rain.

Batch after batch of Japanese warriors died here.

Holding the Buddha beads, Du Deng recited the mantra of rebirth over and over again.But such a seemingly merciful monk has never stopped others from killing people.

This may be the biggest difference between Du Deng and other monks. His indifference is closer to that of a quack.

Ye Ying kept her eyes closed all the time, no less than a hundred people died under his sword in just one hour.

The white-haired and elegant young man looked indifferent, as if he was in front of a garden of flowers, peacefully enlightened.

The jackdaws on the branches screamed, and it became colder and colder in the ruined temple.

Wu's skirt gradually turned a little red, she sat quietly leaning against the fire, the strong bloody smell pierced her heart with a dull pain.

Ye Ying slowly withdrew her sword.

But he couldn't help but think of the sword masters by the flower pond that day. These people have exactly the same martial arts, but they don't know why they came here.

Three days later, there might be another bloodbath at the Famous Sword Conference.

The silence in the ruined temple outside the city was terrifying, and the dead Japanese ninja suddenly spat out a silver needle as thin as a cow's hair.

The last word of Du Deng fell, and the rosary shot out of his hand.

At the same time, the sword that was already in its sheath was blocked in front of the girl in white.

The man in black who was feigning death had his eyes wide open, and his head had already rolled to the ground.

The one who killed him was the benevolent monk in white. The rosary cut the man's throat like a string, and he didn't even have time to turn around and run away.

Du Deng slowly opened his eyes, and saw the begonia-like beauty looking at him with a smile: "You killed someone."

Her voice was light and slow, as if she was sighing in a deep smoke.

Even Ye Ying was a little surprised——Du Deng was indeed the first murderer among Shaolin true disciples.

The white-clothed monk looked at the rain curtain outside the temple suspiciously, and the blood slowly slid down his face.

Wu Qun suddenly understood why Shaolin Temple sent him down the mountain.

Perhaps their goal was not the lost sword post, but this white-clothed monk who looked like a demon but not a demon.