Qingqing held up the bamboo slip and could barely see the tiny brush strokes on it. I don't know which sect's ancestors had recorded the music score in such a scrawled manner. After looking at it carefully for a while, Qingqing raised his head and looked at his master.
Ziqin was also beside Qingqing. He glanced at the small characters and nodded: "Yes."
Baihua Fairy said nothing, stood up, walked behind her, and opened a tall drawer door. She heard several reluctant "squeaking" sounds, a burst of dust fell, and several dazzling beams of light shot out in front of the fairy.
shimmer.
The shimmer was the shimmering light of many silk strings. Qingqing took a closer look and discovered that behind the inconspicuous wooden door, there was actually a deep and quiet treasure house of musical instruments. Looking around, among them were the zither, flute, flute, ruan xian
The pipa was displayed like a collection of treasures. Seeing the surprised expressions of the master and apprentice, the fairy lowered her head and smiled:
"They are all left behind by our ancestors. It's just that the slave family has low skills and is not proficient in all kinds of magic weapons, which makes the two distinguished guests laugh."
Ziqin shook her head: "Fairy is too modest. There are countless melodic instruments in the world, how can there be time to finish learning? The sound of the fairy's pipa is rare in the world, and it is already rare." After saying that, his eyes couldn't help but look past the fairy's thin shoulders and towards him.
Looking at the treasure house of instrumental music.
A golden nanmu lyre decorated with patterns is arranged in the middle of various magic instruments.
Fairy Baihua seemed to see Ziqin's thoughts, she pursed her lips and smiled, took out the piano from behind, and placed it steadily in front of the master and apprentice. The fairy unfolded the scroll of bamboo slips, stretched out her five fingers like catkins, and said,
Made a "please" gesture.
Needless to say, Ziqin and Qingqing looked at the bamboo slips together. For a moment, the two of them still seemed to have returned to the top of the Lirong Mountain. Ziqin pressed his left hand on the strings and held Qingqing's shoulder with his right hand. Qingqing
Qing lowered his eyes, looked at Qixian with a slight smile, and put the five fingers of his right hand into the light of Qixian.
Almost as if his fingernails were tightened on the string ends, when the first note burst out, Qingqing was suddenly startled, feeling that there was something slightly different about this piano. He frowned and turned his head to look at his master.
, Sure enough, Ziqin also looked in his direction.
The master and apprentice exchanged their thoughts with each other while the piano was playing.
As soon as the sound of the piano started, it seemed that the air around him was stirred into a ball. The clouds of breath began to rotate in the sound of the piano, and gradually wrapped the master and the disciple in the center. Qingqing only felt that there was something at the point where his fingertips jumped.
Something rushed towards me, and before I could get out of the way, it immediately jumped behind me.
Many years later, Qingqing recalled this time when he played the piano at West Lake and realized that this was what the world calls "murderous aura".
The fingertips clearly hurt as if they had been scratched by a sword, but they didn't leave any scars at all. They just couldn't help but look at the unclear music score on the bamboo slips, and kept playing every word.
Suddenly I heard a "clang" sound, and the Zhengyin string with the lowest tone and the thickest silk thread suddenly broke.
Ziqin hurriedly rubbed his hand, but it was too late. He grabbed Qingqing's wrist and realized that there was no scar on the palm of his hand, but it seemed like a sharp blade had scratched it, and blood oozed out drop by drop.
The "clang" sound just now was too familiar to Ziqin. It is often when a student who practices the piano fails to overcome a difficult obstacle that the strings in his hand make such a sound. Or, when the sound of the piano encounters some critical moment, it is like
When a stringed sword collides with a sharp blade, it will also make such a clanging sound.
This tune does not seem to be describing anything, but rather seems to have written down every move in the competition in the music score.
What just collided with the seven strings—
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Ziqin raised her head, her cold eyes staring straight at Baihua Fairy's face painted with makeup: "Who is it?"
The fairy shook her head in panic: "What the guest is talking about... I really don't know!" After saying that, she hurriedly leaned over as if to apologize.
While Fairy Ruixinta was looking frightened, Qingqing squinted and looked at the twists and turns of the music score, which could even be said to be strangely shaped handwriting. Even if someone didn't understand the music, there was no need for someone who copied the music score to copy the music score.
The copy was so sloppy? Just as Qingqing frowned, he vaguely realized——
There seemed to be a crack in the middle of the thick bamboo piece.
The crack is on the side of the bamboo slip, and ordinary people cannot detect it when looking from the front. Even if the bamboo slip is spread out, it will slowly unfold from the tail. The thick bamboo piece on the far right of the bamboo slip is cracked in the middle, and it will not scratch the holder.
Human hand.
If you look carefully, you can see that the cracks are very neatly split, and they are definitely not caused by the bamboo slips drying out on their own.
The collections of genealogies recorded on bamboo slips are often of a long time and are the relics left by the ancestors of various sects. Unless they suffered some tragic event that wiped out the family, who could openly carve a crack in these well-preserved bamboo slips?
Qingqing was suspicious, so he no longer hesitated, stood up, and bent down to the side of the bamboo slip. Picking up the rightmost piece of bamboo, he saw that the crack was very deep, and it was far more than a simple scratch in the middle of the bamboo piece.
With a flick of the finger, there was a "click" sound, and the first piece of bamboo broke.
"Young Master Linghu, don't..."
Before Baihua Fairy could finish her words, Qingqing grasped the upper and lower bamboo slips with both hands and pulled hard——
A curl of music as long as a nanmu lyre was neatly split from the center. Viewed separately, the lower half of the bamboo slip was nothing more than a thin piece of old, dry bamboo.
But on the upper half of the bamboo slips, there are ink marks smeared out of the thick dead bamboo texture, which penetrate the bamboo back and clearly appear on the other side.
"What...what is this?"
Fairy Baihua stepped forward and wanted to take the squad leader's bamboo slips stained with ink, but Qingqing grabbed her wrist. Ziqin opened her eyes wide and looked at the back of the bamboo slips stained with ink. She couldn't believe her eyes.
:
The handwriting composed of crooked subtracted calligraphy, turned to the back, is clearly a painting. The two men and women in the painting are tall and erect, clearly identifiable.
If you look more carefully, you can see that the sharp weapon in the man's hand is very heavy. It is not known whether it is a knife or a sword. It looks like it is four or five feet long. In comparison, the woman moves lightly and deftly, no more than a thin thread.
Tangled in the air, it faced the man's head-on chop.
The painting on this bamboo slip is extremely fine, but after looking at the figure for a moment, you feel that the light and shadow of the sword are already before your eyes.
The sects of this man and a woman cannot be seen at a glance. The long silk in the woman's hand seems to be somewhat similar to the hidden thread in Nanlin. It's just that the sect that can make the hidden thread is said to live in seclusion in the deep forest, which is better than Dongli Rongshan.
He doesn't even like to come out. As for how Nan Jianing was brought back from the deep mountains and forests by the previous head Nan, even the second master Nan himself couldn't explain.
Is that man holding a sharp sword or a broadsword in his hand?
Ziqin held her chin with her hand, thinking deeply, and couldn't help but let out a long sigh. Qingqing seemed to have read through the master's mind, and murmured in a low voice:
"This is a big knife."
Ziqin raised her eyes in surprise: "Seriously?"
"It's absolutely true." Qingqing nodded absently, his eyes
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Still attracted by the fight on the bamboo slips, "Second Young Master Nan said it himself, it must be a big sword."
Ziqin wanted to ask more, but suddenly remembered something else, so she turned to Fairy Baihua and said, "Who is your master?"
But in the blink of an eye, Baihua Fairy saw the bamboo slips she had collected being torn into two halves, and the master and apprentice of the Linghu family stared at her with fierce expressions on their faces. They could not help but be frightened and their faces turned pale, and they continued intermittently:
"It's Rui, the singing and dancing master of Ruixin Pagoda... who is always invited by the madam's mother..."
“What’s that person’s name?!”
The fairy opened his eyes wide and quickly shook his head: "I don't know what the master's name is. I always just call him 'Mr. Mo' every time I meet him."
Hearing the words "Mr. Mo", an ominous premonition came to Qingqing's heart.
Ziqin then asked, "Is the master of Ruixin Pagoda always the same person, or has it been changed midway?"
"Yes." The fairy's long hair was spread down, and her eyes kept flashing with panic, "Ruixin Pagoda's madam mother didn't know any music skills. She just heard about who was good in the world and whose music was good, so she took Cheng
I brought boxes of gold and silver to invite the masters to teach the girls to sing songs..."
"How many people have been replaced?"
"The slave family really doesn't know..." The fairy's pitiful face was filled with pear blossoms. "Seeing that the girls have different instruments, the master will naturally be different... Like the master who came here before and took in seven sisters in one go.
As an apprentice, everyone can play Ruan and sing..."
Hearing this, Linghu Ziqin's heart trembled: "Do you know what that master's last name is?"
The fairy replied with sobs: "It seems that the last name is...Yang."
"No wonder." Ziqin thought secretly, feeling a bitterness welling up in his throat and permeating the blood all over his body. "No wonder the descendant of Ruixin Pagoda just played a piece of music and started killing people in a row at night.
Twenty-four people…”
Thinking of the famous bamboos, precious wood, gold and silver wires used to build such a tall "Baiyinqin", it turned out that Nanlin Ruixin Pagoda also helped a lot behind the scenes. Thousands of thoughts surged in Ziqin's heart, but in an instant
In between, it is elusive and disappears without a trace.
While the master was secretly lost in thought, Qingqing suddenly interrupted and asked: "What does your current master teach you?"
"Mr. Mo knows many things, including reciting poems and writing poems, and studying the past and discussing the present. These musical instruments were left to the slave family by the master..."
"Can he play the xun?"
"Yes!" Hearing this, Fairy Baihua showed a rare expression of certainty, "Master plays the xun very beautifully, and he often holds a pottery xun in his arms in the dark and is lost in thought..."
Qingqing sighed: "Master, it seems that we are not the only ones who want to overturn the rules of our ancestors."
The Fairy Baihua looked at Ziqin and then at Qingqing, not daring to say a word. She almost tried to escape from the murderous attic, but she couldn't move her legs and didn't know how to leave.
Turning to look at the fairy, Qingqing acted as if nothing had happened. He smiled and said, "You go and see off the guests outside. There are so many people here. If only an unrelated spectator is allowed to enter this building,
Here, don’t even think about going back to Ruixin Pagoda.”
After that, use your toes to pick up the half-broken string.
The tip of the string had a sharp sheen, and with a cry of "Ah", the sharp string body had already cut through the fairy's white and tender neck in an instant, leaving a clearly visible blood mark.