i have a sword fairy

Chapter 532
In the underground palace of the imperial mausoleum, seeing Zhao Rong leaving the main hall without saying a word and walking towards the back hall, Gui couldn't help but fell into deep thought...

"Zhao Rong."

It couldn't help calling.

The Confucian scholar with the broken arm did not speak, but continued to move forward holding the jade tablet and the sachet.

At this time, the purple-clothed sword spirit thought for a while, and said seriously:

"Zhao Rong, don't you... want to have a good time before you die?"

The corner of the mouth of the young Confucian scholar who walked forward silently couldn't help but twitched, his footsteps paused slightly, he shook his head speechlessly, and then continued to move forward.

At this moment, the white jade tablet is emitting heat continuously, it seems that a piece of black jade thousands of miles away is being rubbed vigorously by a woman with autumn eyes, and the white jade tablet is a little hot.

The one-armed Confucian scholar still ignored it, but held on tight.

He walked through the narrow corridor and came to the closed door of the apse.

There is a huge stone gate here, blocking Zhao Rong's way.

Behind the door, there were faint movements of living people.

According to the map of the imperial mausoleum, the helpless concubines and concubines left behind by the late Emperor Dali were buried in this closed tomb.

Zhao Rong thought for a moment, walked to the right side of the stone gate, stopped at the seventh floor on the right, squatted down, tapped on the stone slab, and immediately opened it. According to memory, he opened the switch of the stone gate.

Accompanied by a slight "boom" sound.

The heavy stone door opened slowly.

Zhao Rong walked into the door immediately, and he was slightly relieved after seeing the situation in the hall clearly.

Everyone is there.

The light in the apse is dim, but the shimmering pearl on the dome above the head is indeed brighter than the outside, and people can almost be seen clearly.

Zhao Rong looked around carefully, and in his field of vision, the eighteen masked women in white clothes that he saw outside by the waterfall and pool that day were all there, not a few of them.

They were kneeling in the hall quite neatly. The white cloth covering their eyes had been removed, but the white gauze covering their faces was still there, and their beautiful faces could not be seen.

To Zhao Rong's surprise, these concubines and widows, who are very young and beautiful just by looking at their bodies, but have a miserable fate, seem to have never cried before. That round of crystal glazed moon saluted devoutly.

This is the divorced daughter of Zhong Ling Shenxiu?It is indeed not like an ordinary woman under the mountain.

Zhao Rong glanced again and nodded.

But at this moment, because of him, an unknown outsider who broke in suddenly, the salute and prayer of eighteen young women masked in white clothes were interrupted, and they turned their heads in amazement and cast their eyes away.

They couldn't help getting up, and took a few steps back, away from the one-armed scholar at the door, and retreated to the depths of the apse.

They looked at him with different eyes.

At this time, Zhao Rong looked away from the figure of a young girl who seemed to be underdeveloped in the crowd in the hall, shook his head slightly, and muttered, "It's really a bit of a beast."

Then he lowered his eyes, ignored the different eyes of the women in the palace, and started his last thing...

Tear--!
There was a sound of fabric tearing.

The one-armed Confucian scholar who blocked the door lowered his head and began to tear his clothes.

In the apse, the eighteen masked young women gathered around couldn't help staring and took a few steps back.

Then the next second, they were stunned again, and stopped their retreat.

Because the dirty one-armed Confucian scholar in front of him, who seemed to be eager to tear his clothes, suddenly knelt down on one knee, spread the torn hem of the clothes on the marble floor, and then used his knees to support it.

The one-armed Confucian scholar's right sleeve was empty, already drenched with dark red liquid, and the dark red liquid seemed to be still dripping from the roughly bandaged severed arm.

But he didn't seem to care about this, and he directly raised his left hand, with the index finger and middle finger together, and the dark red liquid full of fingers was stained from the blood-red wet sleeve.

The one-armed Confucian scholar began to write vigorously on the cloth on the ground, using his finger as a substitute for the pen.

The eighteen masked young women in the hall looked at each other.

This miserable and embarrassing Confucian scholar with a broken arm...is writing a blood book?
The one-armed Confucian scholar, kneeling on one knee and writing, bowed his head, pursed his lips, focused on writing, and raised two fingers from time to time to replenish the "pen and ink" on the blood-red sleeve.

The hall fell into silence.

Only the rough panting of the one-armed Confucian scholar and the sound of two fingers rubbing against the ground were particularly loud.

A moment later, under his fingertips, a complex map and corresponding text written in blood slowly appeared...

The one-armed Confucian scholar wrote cursive calligraphy in one go. After finishing writing, he withdrew his slightly trembling blood fingers.

He stood up slowly with one hand on the ground, his bright eyes were still staring at the bloody book on the ground, his brows were frowning, and he didn't know what he was thinking.

The next moment, in the sight of eighteen masked women in white clothes, the one-armed Confucian scholar rubbed his blood-stained fingers on the relatively clean clothes around his waist, reached into his arms, and took out A white jade tablet and a small sachet.

The one-armed Confucian scholar bent down, as if he was about to gently throw the two objects beside the blood book, but in the middle of the movement, he stopped suddenly.

The one-armed Confucian scholar frowned, lowered his head and sighed, and immediately tore off a small piece of fabric from the torn Confucian shirt, then knelt down on one knee, and, just like before, dyed his fingers again and wrote a small piece of blood.

This time the number of words is not much, and the speed is much faster than before.

After a while, he rolled up the small piece of blood book and put it into the small sachet with his teeth and one hand.

at this time.

Among the eighteen masked women in white clothes who gathered together, a tall young woman stood out, who seemed to be the one with a higher status among the concubines and widows.

The tall, masked young woman stepped up and walked towards the one-armed Confucian scholar who behaved strangely and haggardly at the door.

Seeing this, the one-armed Confucian scholar shook his head slightly at her.

He squeezed the jade tablet and the sachet with his hands, and then threw them over one by one.

The tall slender woman stopped, took the jade tablet and the sachet with both hands, and looked down.

Zhao Rong didn't look at her again, turned his head to look at the dark and unknown deep tomb passage outside the door behind him, and took a deep breath.

He turned his head, turned towards the girls, and pointed vigorously at the blood book that had written everything under his feet.

then.

He turned and strode toward the door.

In the quiet hall, eighteen women in white clothes, including the tall masked woman, looked at the lonely back of this one-armed scholar with different eyes.

In the hall, all of this was carried out silently.

The one-armed Confucian scholar walked out of the stone gate, and stopped slightly in front of the gate.

Standing there, he slowly turned back.

The one-armed Confucian scholar took one last look at the two things in the hands of the tall masked woman in the hall.

"Wait a minute……"

Finally he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse, but his tone was very serious.

"...No matter what's going on outside, don't take the initiative to open the door."

The women in white clothes were startled, and all looked at the tall, masked young woman in front of them.

The latter was looking up and down at the embarrassed one-armed Confucian scholar, and didn't reply for a while.

However, Zhao Rong no longer cared about them.

After the words fell, he slightly lowered his eyes and stared at the ground under his feet.

Suddenly, the one-armed Confucian scholar raised his hand, vigorously wiped the blood on his face, and immediately pulled out his sword from his waist, and threw it into the hall.

In the crisp sound of ping-pong.

The one-armed Confucian scholar who left an empty scabbard at his waist turned around directly, activated the mechanism, closed the stone door, and strode away...

Just as the figure of the one-armed Confucian scholar disappeared into the dark tomb passage outside the door, inside the door, in the quiet hall, a tall, masked woman stepped forward.

When she came to the gate, there was a book in blood lying quietly on the cold floor beside her feet.

The dark red blood has solidified.

The tall slender masked woman first glanced at the increasingly hot white jade in her hand, then lowered her head again, and looked at the bloody book at her feet...

After a moment, she reached out and picked up the sharp sword that would help them 'decorate'.

The tall slender masked woman raised her head and looked at the heavy and tightly closed stone door with complicated eyes...

……

"Zhao Rong, why don't you go back and have a good time. This seat thinks you can go and talk to them, and they are accommodating. This request should not be too much."

In the tomb passage, Gui suggested the road.

Zhao Rong didn't speak, but rhythmically patted the scabbard on his waist with his left palm.

On the scabbard, engraved with the incomparably glorious Destiny Black Bird pattern in the hearts of Zhao's children all over the world.

On the tall building by the heart lake, the purple-clothed sword spirit who tilted his head to enjoy the scenery leisurely thought about it again, and said.

"At a critical moment, you are so hard to take care of yourself, and you have done so many things for them. Well, the reason Mr. Zhao said before seems to be...you and I are mortals."

It nodded and said with a smile: "Then they must also show consideration for Mr. Zhao, it's fair."

Zhao Rong, who was staring at the front, was silently counting down the countdown. At this time, after hearing the words, he still didn't answer, and suddenly reached into his arms, and took out a small kit that was almost forgotten, which was also given by a little girl. .

The one-armed Confucian scholar bit the mouth of the kit bag with his mouth, tilted his head, and poured out something into his hand. Then he made a fist with his left hand, kneaded it vigorously, and then spread his palm, and wiped a few handfuls of dirt with his hand. Xi's thin face.

The face is dirtier.

Right now they are walking in the narrow tomb passage in silence, as if they are about to meet something, and once they quiet down, the atmosphere becomes unconsciously dignified.

The purple-clothed sword spirit, who seemed to be enjoying the scenery leisurely, was actually silently watching the movements of the one-armed scholar, and immediately continued to ease the atmosphere.

It chuckled softly and said, "By the way, our Mr. Zhao looks very romantic, but when you look at it carefully, he seems to be a child, right?"

Hearing that the culprit had the face to mention this, the one-armed Confucian scholar who was concentrating on opening his eyelids really couldn't help it this time.

He said to it in a very sincere tone: "Return to the Great Sword Spirit, you don't have to say anything if you have nothing to say."

Gui: "..."

The two became quiet again.

In the silent tomb passage, there was only the sound of Zhao Rong's swift footsteps, and the atmosphere became solemn again, making people breathless.

Because Zhao Rong and Gui were actually waiting for a certain sound.

"How much longer."

It asked suddenly.

Ask the next time a disfigured old Confucian scholar breaks into the door with a banging sound.

"Ninety... breath."

The one-armed Confucian scholar calmly stared at the dark tomb passage ahead, and muttered softly.

After a pause, he continued to count, "89 breaths... 88 breaths... 87 breaths..."

Gui was silent for a while, "Then where are we going now?"

"run?"

The one-armed Confucian scholar smiled, and at this moment, he finally crossed the tomb passage.

Turn back to the main hall of the underground palace again.

"Seventy breaths... 69 breaths..."

The one-armed Confucian scholar calmly walked to the center of the silent main hall, suddenly shook his head, and asked curiously, "Why are you running?"

Gui immediately understood.

No more words.

Inside the brow chakra, dressed in purple, she stood up suddenly and came to the railing of a high-rise building, far away from this peaceful heart lake that hides evil dragons.

However, at this moment, Zhao Rong raised his hand and rubbed his face, showing a bright smile, and suddenly said: "It should be... that old bastard should run away."

He pointed to his feet.

The purple-clothed sword spirit was taken aback for a moment, this time, he really frowned in confusion.

"49 breaths."

In the center of the magnificent main hall, in front of the dragon coffin.

The one-armed Confucian scholar bowed his head, whispered a word, then removed the scabbard at his waist, placed it horizontally on the lid of the dragon coffin, grabbed it with his big hand, and tore off the broken and blood-red right sleeve.

He grabbed the blood-red sleeve with his left hand and placed it above the empty scabbard.

The dark red blood was squeezed out in clusters and fell on the scabbard like a trickle.

It stained the empty scabbard red, and wet the corner of the huge dragon coffin below.

"36 breaths..."

The one-armed Confucian scholar grabbed one end of the blood-red scabbard and mopped the other end.

Dragging the scabbard with his arms down, he walked three feet away from the dragon coffin, and then... his footsteps deviated, and he walked around the luxurious dragon coffin in the middle.

"21 breaths."

After the one-armed Confucian scholar circled the dragon coffin three times with a radius of three feet, a bright red blood circle appeared on the cold, dark floor in the center of the grand hall.

This scene, which appeared in the dark hall where the coffin was placed, was very strange.

Seeing this, Gui frowned and became more and more puzzled.

The one-armed Confucian scholar stood still for a moment, then walked silently to the southeast corner of the hall, knelt down, and took out a white candle.

Candles lit, put down.

A grain of orange light lit up the southeast corner of the magnificent main hall.

This style of painting... seems to be getting more and more wrong.

Seeing this, Sword Spirit couldn't bear it anymore.

"What is this... what are you doing?"

It asks seriously.

"This? Heh... ghost blowing... lamp. Eighteen breaths."

Looking at this neat candle, the one-armed Confucian scholar who was squatting on the ground grinned, and then said something nonchalantly.

Gui: "...???"

Ghost... blowing... lights?You can't be a fucking member of the Devil's Cult! ?

The one-armed Confucian scholar stood up, dragged his scabbard, and walked back to the 'blood circle' in the center of the hall without any haste.

The sword spirit was silent for a moment, then cast his eyes again, and took a closer look at the strange layout in the hall...

It shares weal and woe with Zhao Rong, the kind that sleeps together.

What kind of secrets can he have, it is very clear, and the heart lake is beside him.But right now he's using these tricks... wait a minute.

Gui raised his eyelids.

In fact, this guy has always had one thing that makes him, a very knowledgeable sword spirit, unable to figure it out.

That is his strange ideas, and strange brain circuit, or way of thinking.

Even if it could see his mood changes moment by moment based on the color of the heart lake, what exactly was this man thinking... It was not the first time that the sword spirit had guessed wrongly.

Thinking of this, Jian Ling suddenly remembered what Zhao Rong said when he came in, and vaguely understood something...

Gui suddenly said: "Actually... Regarding your heart lake where evil dragons and carp coexist, apart from being able to practice the kung fu of that out-of-bounds martial artist, there is actually... another set of kung fu."

The one-armed Confucian scholar who lowered his head and dragged his scabbard suddenly raised his head, frowned slightly, and then loosened it again.

Nodding: "Nine breaths...say."

On the tall building, the purple-clothed sword spirit lowered its eyes, staring at the evil dragon carp at the bottom of the heart lake who dared not poke its head, and the dark blue glazed dragon carp on the water surface who dared not dive, and spoke...

……

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(End of this chapter)