i have a sword fairy

Chapter 523 Wine, Lao Confucianism, Mo Xia Sword, and the Words of You Rong

"Who is behind you? Who gave you these!"

Zhao Rong raised his head sharply, staring straight at the old Confucian scholar whose smile became more and more crazy.

His eyes were as sharp as a sword's edge.

The old man in front of him was already quite different from the original appearance in his impression.

When I saw this old Confucian scholar on Zhuque Street half a year ago, he was tall and serious in elegant clothes.

But right now, he is disfigured and rickety, miserable and wicked.

I don't know what he has encountered and experienced these days. The old man is carrying an unknown fourth-grade golden elixir and a mysterious cigarette pouch, and there may even be some other backhands.

It seems that he is only looking for revenge...

Qin Jianfu didn't answer when he heard the words.

Quietly rehang the gray pipe on the copper stem.

Behind him, the handsome girl and Feijian Swing, who were about to get violent, were once again frozen in place as if they had been immobilized.

The girl who can turn the situation around has already been tricked out. This time, the old man doesn't need to deliberately show his flaws.

Moreover, as the joke of 'that person' said, this handsome girl following Zhao Rong really hides something that can kill him.

It's a pity that it's all under the control of the 'man' who gave him the pipe and the golden elixir.

Thinking of this, the insane smile that had been hanging on the face of the disfigured old Confucian scholar since he appeared, slowly subsided.

He became as indifferent and gloomy as Wubo Gujing.

Qin Jianfu didn't hesitate any longer, he stretched his withered hand towards his side, and grabbed it with five fingers in the air. The purple gold token that was about to be activated on Zhao Qian'er's waist took off with a 'swish', broke the rope, and fell into his hand.

The old man bowed his head, slightly bent his withered fingers, and gently opened the mouths of some gray pipes.

Toss this purple gold token that symbolizes the identity of the Tianjiao seed of Taiqing Xiaoyao Mansion and also serves as a positioning deterrent.

The Zijin Token shrinks circle by circle, draws an arc, and is sucked into the cigarette pouch.

Qin Jianfu's withered finger ticked at the small crystal sword hanging in the air not far away.

The swing moved, but this time the sword was not according to the master's intention.

It let out a mournful sword cry, and immediately turned around uncontrollably. The sword body shrunk, and it was sucked into the unknown smoke pouch just like the purple gold token.

The situation is unknown.

Zhao Qian'er's chest heaved violently.

She pursed her lips tightly and glared at the calm old Confucian scholar with murderous eyes.

However, in the next second, a bright red line of blood still curved and slid down from the corner of her tightly pursed and white lips.

The sword cultivator lost contact with his natal flying sword, just like a fish losing its gills.

The girl's eyes were red, but her face was stubborn and unyielding.

But Qin Jianfu didn't look at the wild girl behind him.

He turned his head and clapped his hands as if he had just finished a few trivial chores.

As if nothing had happened, he paced towards Zhao Rong.

The disfigured old man was hunched, with a three-foot-long copper bong held between the fingers of one hand, while quietly holding the gray cigarette pouch in his hand, the other hand was raised at this moment, and casually patted the dust on his sleeve.

There is no rush or slow movement.

Step by step approaching Zhao Rong.

The disfigured old Confucian scholar looked at the young Confucian scholar with a terrifying calmness.

This time, it seemed that he didn't wait for Zhao Rong to finish his meal.

However, in the courtyard, there was a young girl trembling.

She struggled to squeeze out some words, "You, you, you let go...Brother Rong..."

Qin Jianfu raised a crooked withered finger without looking back.

The next second, the handsome girl's voice stopped.

"Mmm... um... um."

Zhao Qian'er's mouth was completely sealed by an invisible mana, and she could only watch helplessly as the stooped back of the old Confucian scholar approached the unarmed brother Rong'er.

A desperate sob gradually came out of her throat.

However, Zhao Rong didn't go to see the girl.

He turned his head directly, and said to Qin Jianfu calmly and seriously:
"I will die, I will not resist, any method of death will cooperate with you... You... let her go, as long as you let her go."

The girl trembled, tears streaming down her face.

Qin Jianfu raised his eyelids.

He saw the eyes of the young Confucian scholar in front of him with unprecedented solemnity and...pray?
"Ho ho."

The old man who was so calm and indifferent finally smiled.

Turning around in an instant, she walked directly towards the dazed Zhao Qian'er.

He wanted to torture and kill the people the young Confucian scholars cared about first.

Just like the young Confucian scholar made him helpless in the face of the death of his beloved son.

Zhao Rong, who had been keeping calm all this time, stood up suddenly.

He gritted his teeth and trembled all over.

"Calm down! He's trying to provoke you on purpose, stay calm..." Gui hurriedly persuaded.

But Zhao Rong was like a flood dragon whose scales had been touched, and he couldn't listen anymore.

His cheeks bulged back and forth suddenly, panting, and his gums were squeezed out and blood came out.

"Dare you!!!"

The young scholar roared fiercely, as if he couldn't help but rush forward in the next second.

Qin Jianfu turned a deaf ear and continued to approach.

However this time.

"Cough-cough-!"

The old man suddenly turned pale, and a violent cough hit his throat.

He bowed like a shrimp, and slapped his chest fiercely, as if he wanted to cough up everything in his stomach.

The coughing old man picked up the copper tobacco rod with trembling hands, moved his mouth tremblingly, held the cigarette holder, and shrank his chest sharply, ready to take a strong puff.

And at this moment, behind the old Confucian scholar, the young Confucian scholar who had already lost his eyesight took a decisive step forward, and waved his big sleeve at the crooked figure of the old Confucian scholar.

"Wait, don't!" Gui suddenly persuaded.

However, it was too late.

Just when it blurted out its words.

A bright red maple leaf that didn't seem to belong to late autumn flew out from Zhao Rong's sleeve...

One leaf can tell autumn.

Autumn also knows red leaves.

Ye Zhenghong, autumn is still there.

In an instant.

The whole bamboo forest was in flames.

Countless red leaves are all over the branches.

It seemed that the entire bamboo forest was burned by flames, covering the courtyard where young Confucian scholars, disfigured old Confucian scholars and pretty girls lived.

In the originally quiet surrounding world, there are suddenly the sound of river water, the sound of wind blowing maple forest salsa, the sound of scholars reciting, the sound of fishermen singing in the evening, the sound of young children's shepherd's flute, and the sound of boat girl's pipa...

The sound kept going, the sound continued, the sound... turned into a chilling autumn mood.

In front of Zhao Qian'er, who was crying with eyes closed and unable to speak, a dark-faced old man in Confucian shirts appeared.

This Mr. Yan is meticulous in projecting his hair and crown, and he is also serious in speech and smile. He is wearing a red maple robe.

Block the pretty girl.

"Umm...Rong...Uh...Brother..."

Looking at the back that blocked her vision, Zhao Qian'er's eyes were red, and she really wanted to speak at this moment, but her mouth was sealed and she couldn't utter a complete sentence.

She hated Brother Rong'er to death, and wanted to tell him to get the hell out of here.

Didn't you say that Uncle Bai is not here, and she is here to protect him?what is this?It's all bullshit machismo, Qian'er hates you to death!Don't give Er Niangzi any face, woo woo woo...

Hurry up and run, oh, oh, oh, silly brother Ronger...

At Zhao Qian'er's feet, a gust of autumn wind swirled with the red leaves, and took the weeping girl away in the autumn mood.

The maple leaf projection prepared by Mr. Jingyi of a certain academy for his beloved disciple quietly stood between the handsome young girl and the old Confucian scholar.

In less than a breath, Zhao Qian'er's figure disappeared.

When the young Confucian scholar saw this, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he let out a foul breath.

Gui knew what it meant to persuade him, and the two had a tacit understanding.

Qin Jianfu's "coughing and smoking" flaw was probably staged on purpose to seduce him to show off his tricks.

Let 'accident' no longer surprise.

but.

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 a... 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 pipe bong 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?
……

----

PS: [-] words, finished coding, added [-] words, ahem.

By the way, what is the title of the next chapter?

How about..."I sit at Xiaoxiao's table at the banquet", "...I sit at Qingjun's table", "...I sit at Yourong's table"...

　Thanks to the good brother "I have an account directly for Mao" for the reward of 1000 coins!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)