The Path Toward Heaven

Not everyone understands the meaning of Jing Jiu and Xi Lai saying it's a pity at the same time.

Zhao Layue vaguely understood, and Liu Shisui fully understood, so the two of them felt the heat on their faces earlier than Zhuo Rusui.

Elder Sun completely misunderstood the meaning, thinking that the two seniors and strong men in the way of swords had seen the problems in their own sect master's practice, and their faces turned pale.

The next moment he and those people outside the street really understood the meaning of Jing Jiu and Xihai Sword God.

How old is it? Jing Jiu looked at Peng Lang and asked.

It was a gentle voice that Qingshan disciples had never heard before.

Peng Lang didn't know why this senior real person would ask this, and he didn't dare not answer. He counted with his hands for a long time, and said a little uncertainly, One hundred and forty-five?

Even if there was a difference of several years, it was not a big problem, Jing Jiu's mood was slightly better.

At that time, he and Bai Zao were trapped in the snow field, so naturally they couldn't meet this child.

Looking further ahead, when he ascended, the child hadn't been born yet, so he can't be blamed for neglecting it.

Jing Jiu looked at those guys outside the street, his eyes moved over the faces of Zhao Layue, Liu Shisui, Zhuo Rusui and others, and finally fell on Ping Yongjia.

——If Zhao Layue's temper was cooler, and he didn't always think about investigating his failure in the first few years, if Liu Shisui didn't go to the West Sea Sword Sect as an undercover agent, but instead concentrated on practicing, if Zhuo Rusui's temperament was more stable, he put more energy in making witty words on the way of swordsmanship, and complained less in his stomach, or it would be about the same. But when it comes to talent, only Ping Yongjia can surpass this kid named Peng Lang.

Thinking of these things, he sighed, thinking what a pity, why isn't this kid a Qingshan disciple?

The most troublesome thing is that he has now become the head of the Wuen Sect, and it will be difficult for Qingshan to snatch him over.

This is not the same as when he sent Liu Shisui to Yimao Zhai as the owner of the Zhai.

The long street was silent, everyone understood the meaning in Jing Jiu's eyes and heard his sigh.

Zhao Layue and Liu Shisui were mentally prepared, but their faces were a little hot, while Zhuo Rusui was ashamed and shouted: Should I stop beating!

...

...

Jing Jiu and Xi Lai only had Peng Lang in their eyes at this time, so naturally they would not continue for the time being.

Jing Jiu is relatively better. After all, there are many talented juniors in the Qingshan School, and at least there is Ping Yongjia, although his temper is a bit too weak.

Xilai's reaction was even greater, because the Xihai Sword Sect had been destroyed, and Kirishima was isolated from the world, so who could he pass on his kendo to?

In the past three days, he was preparing for his own funeral, just to determine what the ten heir candidates he had selected back then would be like now, but in the end there was nothing to choose.

As a result, he saw Peng Lang today.

It is unfavorable to give birth to the other party.

Would you like to inherit my swordsmanship?

His eyes are quiet and focused, and everyone can feel his seriousness.

No.

Peng Lang rejected the proposal without even thinking about it.

Although the time since he entered Fengshan was very short, he also knew that the Xihai Sword Sect was the mortal enemy of Wuenmen, and the head of the sect died under the sword of this person.

Then what else do you need to think about? Just like when he rushed towards Emperor Xiao with the sword in hand, he didn't think about it when he stood in front of Elder Sun earlier.

It was precisely because he didn't want to, that he had such a terrifying talent for swordsmanship, even Jing Jiu and Xihai Sword God felt it was a pity.

Hearing his answer, Xi Lai was silent for a while, then suddenly laughed and said, You will see.

what did you see?

Naturally, he saw the true meaning of his swordsmanship.

Peng Lang understood what he meant and said, But you don't have a sword.

Without a sword, how can there be swordsmanship?

After losing to you back then, I abandoned the Twelve-layered Building Sword.

Xi Lai looked at Jing Jiu and said, Today, I also want to invite you to take a look at my newly enlightened way of swordsmanship.

When the voice fell, a very faint and ethereal aura emerged from the ruins of the antique shop and slashed towards Jing Jiu at an unimaginable speed.

That aura was extremely light, without any color, and it didn't make a sound of wind, but it was so sharp.

That is sword intent.

This sword intent comes from the ancient tripod in the ruins.

A sword cry resounded through the long street.

A sword light appeared in front of Jing Jiu, extremely bright.

Jing Jiu retreated several miles away.

The white clothes fluttered and fell off.

Another very faint sword intent emerged from the wall on the side of the street.

This sword intent didn't come from any substance, but from a gap in the brick wall.

Immediately afterwards, more and more sword intent emerged from the cracks in the stone, from the tiles, from under the eaves, and from anywhere.

Hundreds of sword lights seemed to appear around Jing Jiu's body at the same time, and the crisp sound of swords could be heard endlessly.

Where did these sword intents come from?

Countless sword intents emerged from the lines of real things and nothingness, and slashed towards Jing Jiu without any pause.

For example, the gap between the door panel and the door panel, the wind and the traces of the petals blown by the wind.

What kind of kendo state is this?

When those sword intents meet Jing Jiu's sword intent, a beam of sword light will emerge.

Countless sword lights were like lines drawn in bright colors, covering his face, and only more and more holes in the white clothes could be vaguely seen.

Xi Lai looked at Peng Lang and said, Anything can be a sword, such as rain, such as a glacier, or even a thread.

Peng Lang has only practiced the most basic sword formulas in the Wu En Men's Introductory Sword Manual, but his talent is extremely amazing, so he can naturally feel the meaning of those sword intents that arise out of nothing.

He knew that this was the kendo that the Sword God of the West Sea wanted him to inherit and learn, and he didn't want to watch it, but how could he stop the temptation?

Even the people in Qingshan who were watching the battle focused on the street, caring about the situation of the real master, and were shocked by the state of swordsmanship shown by Xilai.

When they found that Xilai still had time to talk to Peng Lang, they were so relaxed and indifferent, their expressions became extremely serious, only Zhao Layue and Liu Shisui were calm.

Tens of thousands of years ago, the founder of the Qingshan sect encountered the sword of all things in the sword peak, and realized the true meaning of the way of swords, and only then did Qingshan become what it is today.

Xi Lai looked at Jing Jiu and said, On the first page of the Qingshan Sword Code, there are four words, everything is a sword, which means that everything can be a sword. Am I wrong?

Hearing this sentence, Master Guangyuan thought of a certain possibility, and his face became extremely ugly.

Zhao Layue glanced at Ping Yongjia, and thought of what Jing Jiu said to herself many years ago—sometimes it is a monkey, sometimes it is a flower, sometimes it is a mushroom, sometimes it is a stone, and of course, it is often a sword.

One sword can transform everything.

Everything can be a sword.

The four words written by the founder of the Qingshan sect on the first page of the sword manual are the true meaning of Qingshan swordsmanship.

Who would have thought that Xilai would actually realize and master the true meaning of the Qingshan School's swordsmanship!

is this real?

...

...

Jing Jiu and Xi Lai landed on the long street of Dayuan City, the sky regained its calm, and the sea of ​​clouds that had been torn apart by the two sword lights gradually closed.

After the torn wound is scarred, it tends to become tougher, with obvious bulges, and the same is true for the sea of ​​clouds.

The thicker white clouds have a gloomy face, blocking the scorching sun in summer, bringing a bit of coolness and countless drops of rain to Dayuan City.

The torrential rain just fell down without warning, onto the bluestone slabs, into the ruins, wet the dust into mud, and splash it into countless spots.

Everything can be a sword, and the rain is connected into silk, which is the best source of sword intent.

Countless sword lights lit up around Jing Jiu's body, and then disappeared.

The white clothes, which had been cut with countless cuts, were drenched by the rain, and fell limply.

Yes, this is indeed the sword of all things passed down by the ancestor.

Jing Jiu's voice floated out from the rain and sword light.

Hearing these words, people no longer had any doubts. Peng Lang opened his mouth slightly, speechless in shock.

Even Zhao Layue and Liu Shisui's expressions became extremely dignified.

More than a thousand years ago, Nan Chi wanted to worship Dao Yuan Daoist of the Qingshan Sect as his teacher, but was expelled tragically.

Who would have thought that his apprentice Xilai would have realized the supreme swordsmanship of the Qingshan School on his own after thousands of years!

As expected of a peerless swordsman genius, the title of Xihai Sword God is well deserved, even the word Xihai should be removed now.

If Nan Chi knew about this, he would be extremely pleased.

If Xi Lai can completely defeat Jing Jiu with the true meaning of the Qingshan School's swordsmanship, it will be a perfect victory.

At this time, the rain suddenly stopped.

It doesn't mean that the rain stops here, but that the rain stops where it is.

Even if it is a pouring rain, it is not really a scoop of water, but composed of countless raindrops. It is just the size of the raindrops and the number of falling raindrops to distinguish the rain.

Some raindrops were as big as soybeans, and some raindrops were deformed, like squashed gold leaves.

Some raindrops have just left the clouds, and some raindrops have landed on the bluestone slab and are splitting into four petals.

Some raindrops passed Peng Lang's nose, and some raindrops buried half of his body in the silk of the white clothes.

All these raindrops stopped.

Stop at your own position.

Or stand still.

Those sword intents floating out of the rain and cracks in the stone slabs also gradually disappeared, because everything returned to stillness.

Those sword lights faded gradually, and then dispersed, like fireworks about to die.

But that's not my sword of all things.

Jing Jiu walked out.

The fireworks cleared.

...

...

(In the novels I wrote before, a chapter is often divided into upper, middle and lower, and occasionally it will be repeated again and again. It is rare in Dao, because the ability to choose chapter names has been strengthened. In addition, this story has always been deliberately going on a calm path, saving pen and ink as much as possible, so there will not be a particularly large part of the battle. After a while, I said, is this a lot? For a forty-two-year-old middle-aged man, it is really a lot, but fortunately it is done.)