The Green Shirts in the Martial Arts Rivers and Lakes

Chapter 55 Goodbye Guo Yunshen

Winter in the south comes late, falling on the border between Guangdong and Guangxi, two cold rains, a few thunderclaps, and strong winds blowing, this is considered winter.

In the golden building, through the half-covered green windows, the rain is silky, as thin as silk hair, soaked in the unfinished coolness of autumn, and it is too late to make people say that the sky is cool, and in a blink of an eye, the laughter of those yingyingyanyans Disperse.

Listening to the movement outside, Chen Zhuo glanced out the window, "I won't see any snow this year."

Mr. Rui and Uncle Deng sat aside, one holding a pipe, the other with his sleeves folded, and a palm-sized abacus was placed on the coffee table beside him.

The three chatted about some trivial matters in the Golden Building.Don't look at the wind and dust, those girls have also formed their own formations, otherwise they are weak and easy to be bullied; no matter how big or small the teapots are, they all come from south to north, and there are back kitchens, accountants, and errands, etc. We have to re-establish the rules and take care of everything.

Mr. Rui smiled and said: "Speaking of which, I haven't seen snow for more than ten or twenty years. I live like a lonely ghost. I don't know if I can go back for a walk in my lifetime."

Although there was a smile on his face, there was no smile in his eyes.

This golden building looks like a jumble of fish and dragons, and the depth of the water is scary, but most of them are sad people.

It seems that the masters of the Northern School like them, since they are hidden in the Goulan tiles, have not committed serious crimes and caused great disasters, which are not tolerated by the world or by etiquette.

Wumen values ​​face, if it is not desperate, who would go south to avoid disaster, let alone settle in the dust.

Don't look at those people who treat them kindly on the surface, but in my heart I'm afraid it's no different from treating a lost dog.

Speaking of it, he can be considered as a disciple of the third generation of Xingyimen.However, in the early years, he was young and energetic, ignorant of things, in order to gain fame, he relied on his fists and feet to fight injustices for others, and made countless enemies. In the end, he was tricked by his opponents, misunderstood people's words, and killed innocent people by mistake , causing a catastrophe.

Now not only the enemies want him to die, without the protection of the master, the masters of the secret door also feel that he has hurt the face of the sect and want to clean up the sect, even the government can't let him go, and issued a reward.

In the end, he hid in Tibet and had nowhere to go, so he fled to the south with the secret help of his master. He settled down in this hall and became an accountant.

Years ago when he heard that his master was seriously ill, he could only kowtow three times to the north, but finally he didn't have the courage to set foot north again.

"A country has no north and south, so what's the difference between the south and the north? Lonely ghosts? Looking at eight thousand miles of rivers and mountains, who is not a lonely ghost? Instead of looking north and sighing, it's better to think about how to go back."

Chen Zhuo's eyes were cold, and he held a brush with a sharp edge like a knife, but what he wrote was not words, but sketched aimlessly according to Wang Wu's knowledge of using a knife. The strength is not in the shape of a word, but it is just swaying at will, rising and stopping at will, with awe-inspiring killing intent.

He was writing with his hands, and his body moved his muscles and bones as he turned his wrist with the brush. He breathed secretly, his feet rose and fell, and his center of gravity changed, like stepping on waves, but the brush in his hand was still very stable.

He is different from Wang Wu.

Wang Wuxing's is the righteous way, and the characters in his pen are mostly square, and the true meaning of his swordsmanship can be seen by seeing the characters.One horizontal and one vertical is the way of offense and defense, the momentum is majestic, like the mountains and rivers, with the world in mind, majestic and majestic.

He is different, in addition to his vigorous strokes, he also draws a circle from time to time, sometimes flat and sometimes square, strangely tight.

Mr. Rui at the side can see the doorway. He is a disciple of Xingyi, so he knows the doorway of Huayuan.

Taiji is a circle, and there is no circle without a circle; the shape and meaning are also circles, which are small circles, which are a point. , the handle forms an arc, the shot is also an arc, turning the palm and walking is all an arc.

Only one hundred and three strokes were written, and nine circles were drawn. Chen Zhuo stretched his back, his spine seemed to be opening and closing joints, trembling, sounding like thunder, and it seemed as if there was a gap between his chest and abdomen. As the tiger roared and the dragon groaned, a stream of warm current emerged from the trembling bones, pushing the muscles and extending to the limbs and bones.

For a moment, it was as if there were fish swimming on his back, scurrying around under the tight green shirt.

half an hour.

"Well!"

With Chen Zhuo's lips and teeth together, a wisp of white air immediately "swished" out, like a powerful arrow, flew out of the window and collapsed in the rain.

He put down his brush, and said calmly: "The sun and the moon are waning, the sky is cloudy, and life is the same. There is no life without regrets. Those who say that they have no regrets are farting. If you slap a few mouths, you will regret it more than anyone else... Don't ask for no regrets, but ask for no shame!"

Several people listened in silence.

half an hour.

Chen Zhuo looked at Uncle Deng, "Uncle Deng, you said earlier that Renbo and Lao Daohanzi made a batch of guns?"

Uncle Deng nodded, "That's right, it's either Shisanxing or bought it from the British guys over in Xiangjiang. You should be more careful."

Chen Zhuo's eyes flickered, he poured a cup of tea, drank it slowly, and said, "Understood. In addition, you will still be in charge of the affairs of the Golden Tower in the future. You don't need to inform me about small matters. You can make up your own mind. Let me know when you’re undecided. I don’t like to do bright things, I only like to do dark things, and now I’m depending on others, but I’m still an outsider in the end, and it’s easier than me to do things with you outside.”

Uncle Deng had two wisps of smoke coming out of his nostrils, and he said with a hearty smile, "Don't worry, I can still say a few words in Foshan. I'll talk to a few families later, and it will only take a meal."

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Mr. Rui withdrew his hands from his sleeves when Uncle Deng had left.

"The foreign gun bullets you want are not easy to find, but these days, the rich have everything. There are often people from the Thirteen Lines in Foshan stealing and selling some strange things on the waterway. I let people walk around for a moment."

Then I saw him turn around and go out of the house, and when he came in again, he was holding a wooden box with foreign characters written on it, and he was holding it in silk cloth, mysteriously.

When the box was opened, boxes of yellow bullets immediately jumped into Chen Zhuo's field of vision.

Good guy, there are twenty boxes.

Even Chen Zhuo was taken aback.

In Beijing and Tianjin, not to mention bullets, going to the streets with a weapon is a disaster of imprisonment. When foreigners came to Beijing, he also touched corpses, and each one was poorer than the other. Most of them were bullets, let alone such primered bullets.

"The people of the thirteenth line really have good hands and eyes, and this thing can be obtained, and it will cost a lot."

Chen Zhuo looked at the rows of bullets. He had just said something casually before, but unexpectedly they were found for him.

Mr. Rui didn't quite understand, and frowned, "With your skill, do you still need to borrow foreign guns?"

People like them seek the truth in their fists and practice martial arts with their original heart, and never borrow foreign things.

Originally seeing Chen Zhuo's fierce swordsmanship and astonishing punching intent, he thought that he must be a person who is dedicated to martial arts, but he would also be greedy for things from foreigners.

Chen Zhuo didn't argue with him too much, but said softly: "If you have fought against that foreigner's spear formation, you will know how extraordinary these little things are. I am not relying on them, but for a Prepare for a big event, a thing that can only succeed, not fail."

While the two were talking, a big teapot downstairs suddenly rushed to the door.

The big teapot knocked on the door, and said quickly, "Mr. Chen, an old man came downstairs and asked to see you by name."

"Did he say what his name was?"

Chen Zhuo was completely unmoved, his eyes were still fixed on those bullets, and he seemed to be planning something in his heart, a little uncertain.

The big teapot responded outside the door: "The old man said his surname is Guo."

"Guo?"

Chen Zhuo took a breath, his eyes trembled suddenly, and he turned his head to look outside the door.

"Guo what?"

The big teapot replied, "Guo Yunshen!"

Chen Zhuo's eyes suddenly lit up, "You lead him in... Forget it, I'll go by myself."

really.

In a corner of the hall, an old man with full hair and full hair was sitting quietly. Almost as soon as Chen Zhuo's eyes fell, the old man had already realized that it was none other than Guo Yunshen.

I haven't seen him for a year, but the old man is still the same as before, with the same clothes, but with a felt hat on his head.

"Why are you here?"

Chen Zhuo rushed to meet him, and hurriedly led him to the elegant room.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he entered the door, Mr. Rui knelt down, his eyes were full of regret and pain, and he rushed to the old man's feet, crying hoarsely.

"Master!"

(End of this chapter)