Yang Ji didn't have many relatives around him. After spending time with "Xiao Ji" for a long time, Yang Ji treated him more and more as a "person" instead of a snake. In his heart, Yang Ji actually already regarded him as a snake.
One of my relatives named it "Xiao Ji" with the same meaning.
"Once a thief, always a thief", this is a saying in a poem. It was not that Yang Ji had never "stealed" martial arts in the "martial arts training ground" that day.
But Yang Ji relied on his own wisdom and the essence he learned from Xiao Ji. He learned from one example and learned from others, and realized the realm of "flying on grass". In terms of realm, his realm has surpassed those of the Yang family's disciples who practiced Kung Fu.
Not everyone can do this.
If Xiao Ji is sent to steal, even though he does a good job without being noticed, the nature of this is completely wrong. First of all, he will not be able to pass the test in his heart.
"Heaven knows and earth knows, you know and I know... ugh!"
Yang Ji sighed and said nothing.
Yang Ji picked up the pen beside him and wanted to write on the paper and polish the unique skill of "Cloud Hand". But he felt bored and fell asleep unconsciously.
"Master, Master..."
At some point, a faint voice sounded from his ears. Yang Ji moved and opened his eyes to see a familiar face.
"Master, why did you fall asleep on the table?"
Uncle Liang held the food box in his hand and said with concern.
Yang Ji was startled and looked up. At this time, the window was bright and it was already dawn, and the oil lamp on the table had long been extinguished.
"Did I actually sleep for so long?"
Yang Ji was secretly surprised. He only remembered writing on the table, but before he knew it, he fell asleep on the desk.
"Master, wash your face. Let's have some breakfast."
Uncle Liang expressed concern.
"Um."
Yang Ji nodded, and while he was washing up, he heard Uncle Liang's voice in his ear.
"Zhenwu Hall? Master, are you about to enter the Zhenwu Hall?"
Uncle Liang's voice was full of surprise.
"Ah? Uncle Liang, how do you know?"
Yang Ji turned around and said in surprise.
Uncle Liang was almost a layman in martial arts. Even if Yang Ji stood in front of him, he didn't know whether he was breathing in one step, two steps, three steps, four steps, seven steps or eight steps...
Yang Ji was surprised. He had never mentioned it. How did Uncle Liang know that he was old enough to enter the Zhenwu Hall.
"Master, aren't you writing this on paper?"
Uncle Liang pointed to the table and said. Although he doesn't know martial arts, he can still recognize the words.
Yang Ji put down his towel and walked over to take a look. Sure enough, there were lines of words scrawled on the paper, all of which were "Zhenwutang, Zhenwutang...". But Yang Ji remembered that he was not clearly studying "Yunshou" last night.
"? No matter how it is written, it is always "Zhenwutang".
"This is probably the so-called thinking during the day and dreaming at night."
Yang Ji couldn't help but smile.
Uncle Liang was not an outsider. At that moment, Yang Ji told him that he had reached the tenth level of breathing not long ago and that the Zhenwu Hall was blocked by the eldest lady.
"Master."
Uncle Liang hesitated for a moment and suddenly said: "Actually, our Yang family may have more than one such scroll..."
"What!"
Yang Ji looked shocked and raised his head sharply.
One stone stirred up a thousand waves, and Yang Ji's heart suddenly surged!...
Chapter completed!