Volume Three, Yin Jiang Chapter One Hundred and Five
Watching Fairy Baihua come downstairs in disheveled clothes, the men and women lighting torches in the dark night dispersed one after another, and the obscene shouts and curses could not be heard. It was not until the whole world was finally only a trickle of West Lake water quietly pushing away, that Qingqing was there
The gurgling water whispered:
"Master, we must go to Nanlin Ruixin Pagoda."
The master was so helpless that when he saw someone making a cut, he would cover his eyes in fear. He could not be allowed to continue to be the father of a music lawyer in Ruixin Tower! When Qingqing thought about it, she couldn't help but feel that it was both ridiculous and terrifying -
- Alone outside, defenseless, not even able to give a false name!
The moonlight was like water, and Ziqin stared quietly at the people's feet in the West Lake, the lakes that looked like gems embedded in the earth. People rowed oars and wandered on the waterway with their sleepy eyes squinting.
Humming consciously:
"There are weeds in the wild, and you can collect the flowers. I will tell you what I am doing, and I will go home with you..."
It seems that the appearance of Baihua Fairy is still vaguely in front of my eyes tonight. As for the two strange guests in green clothes, why they came and why they left have long been completely forgotten by the people who are gradually falling into sleep.
The stone road was crisp and clear, leaving only the golden horse from the northern desert tied alone, pawing its hooves impatiently.
Perhaps as the night gets darker and the night watchman is working, he will find the little beggar lying lifeless on the road.
Linghu Ziqin turned around and sighed softly: "No hurry. I'm afraid Mr. Mo has already left Broken Qiong Forest." After saying that, he suddenly continued: "Qing Qing, why don't you demonstrate this bamboo slip with Master?
The move on?"
Qingqing was stunned and nodded.
When the master took out the stringed sword from his sleeve, Qingqing suddenly thought of his elder brother's silver bow and folding fan for some reason. The general's old bowstring was like the slender stringed sword in the palm of the master's hand, and there was a faint murderous aura.
Gentle light.
Looking down at the wooden flute in his hand, he felt that it was far different from the broadsword in the painting. But he was traveling abroad and could not find any better substitute. So he took a deep breath and silently stared at the string sword.
The invisible road crossed by light and shadow caused the white jade flute to spread out in front of her with a "thousand-mile formation of clouds".
The movement of the stringed sword was very beautiful, just like a really soft filament. It walked away like a dragon and snake, flashing a cold light in front of Qingqing's eyes. Qingqing turned around, took a "plum blossom formation" step backward with his left foot, and took a step back with his right foot.
He stood firm on his feet, turned around, and happened to lift the wooden flute above his head.
The xianjian suddenly froze in mid-air in Ziqin's hand, one sword and one flute, only a dozen inches apart. The master and apprentice turned their heads and looked at each other with a smile.
The dozen inches frozen in mid-air are exactly the normal width of the broadsword's blade. The bamboo slip depicts the two people's swords intersecting here. The painting is very detailed, even the foreheads of the man and the woman.
The beads of sweat that oozed out were outlined.
This move must have been deadlocked for a long time, and neither of them could think of a way to resolve it.
The moment the master and apprentice unfolded the bamboo slips, they almost memorized every move in their minds. Therefore, when making gestures, there was no need to look away and look at the person in the painting again. Ziqin whispered
ask:
"Qing Qing?"
"Um."
With just a few simple words, the master and the disciple already understood each other. So Qingqing took a step away, turned the wooden flute horizontally, made the tip of the flute look like the tip of a knife, and pointed it directly towards the woman's wrist bone holding the long silk in her hand.
The string light of Ziqin turned and the "tip of the knife"
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"Wrapped in "long silk" light and shadow.
If you think about it carefully, the broadsword move imitated by Qing Qing has many similarities with the "stone falling from the peak" in the "Bi Zhen Sword Technique".
Just like ten years ago, when the little Qingqing first came to Lirong Mountain - the white jade flute was taller than the thin Qingqing at that time. It was also the first time for Ziqin ten years ago to play with her
The art of music and rhythm is passed on to others, so before making a move, always ask: "Qing Qing?"
Qingqing burst into tears and raised her little face covered in mud: "Yeah!"
As soon as the string of light and shadow was pulled, Qingqing fell forward involuntarily, and a warm breath rushed to her face. It was the unique breath of the master, and Qingqing almost fell straight into Ziqin's arms.
Standing up and jumping, the wooden flute's "big knife" turned straight upwards, splitting a silent path of blood, and wrapped the filament imitated by the string sword in it. The moves in the hands of the two gradually softened, and later became slower and slower.
, like two children who are just beginning to learn law, turning left and right while playing.
Before the machete and the filament could continue to tangle, Ziqin suddenly slashed down - the sharp edge of the string sword hit the hole of the wooden flute.
Qingqing only felt a shock in her arm, but she didn't feel any pain.
There was a bit of surprise in Ziqin's eyes: "Qingqing, have you seen the moves after this bamboo slip?"
"Yes..." Qingqing nodded slowly, "What follows this should be Yi Yamo's Yijuan. At that time, the woman's broadsword was completely entangled with the back of the blade and she couldn't get away..." As he spoke, Qingqing said
With a sneak glance in my memory, I demonstrated the shape of the filament and the broadsword.
The purple light of the white jade flute shook out in the air again, spinning round and round faster and faster. Just as Qingqing's "broad sword" was wrapping around the "filament", Ziqin's string sword suddenly
With one stab, he seemed to find a flaw in the circle and stepped forward. There seemed to be a strange light and shadow passing through. Before Qingqing had time to react, a trace of surprise immediately flashed in his pupils——
The breeze rustled, and the tip of the string sword was instantly pressed against Qingqing's heart, just like what was depicted in Nan Lin's painting.
The filament in the man's hand turned out to be used in this way! No wonder I and the Second Young Master Nan tried all the moves of the Eight Sounds and Four Weapons. Not only were they unable to resist, they almost made themselves vomit blood again.
"I didn't expect that Master's string sword could stab so fast!" Qingqing smiled and thought to himself, "I thought I was making rapid progress, but now it seems that I'm still far behind."
The eyes of the master and the apprentice were in front of each other. Qingqing looked up at the master's face. A faint smile appeared on her transparent white cheeks. The cold light of the silk string was cold, but it had a uniqueness that belonged to the master.
The warm feeling is passing along the long strings all the way around Qingqing.
The tip of the string went all the way up, gently across Qingqing's neck, and rested on the slightly raised curve of her chin:
"It's been a long time since I've been down the mountain. How can Qing Qing's skills be the same?"
Ziqin narrowed his eyes and smiled, with an expression that seemed like he had gone back to the days when the master and apprentice were leaning on each other on the top of Lirong Mountain.
Qingqing didn't know what was wrong with her, her heart was beating faster and faster, and her cheeks were flushed.
The tip of the string was small and sharp, just half an inch in front of Qingqing's heart. When it was stabbed forward, the thick green robe in winter suddenly loosened its skirt and almost fell from Qingqing's shoulder.
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The head slipped.
Qingqing opened her eyes wide, and before her clothes could completely fall off her body, the familiar warm breath suddenly surrounded her body. The lamp shook slightly for a moment, then went out completely, leaving only the dim moonlight.
, lightly sprinkled on the broken strings of the guqin.
He could only hear Ziqin's voice whispering close to his ear: "Qing Qing, it's time for us to go back."
"Master?"
"Why."
"Master hasn't finished speaking to his disciples before." Qingqing leaned his head on Ziqin's shoulder and whispered softly, "The heads of the Linghu clan in Lirong Mountain have not been able to come down the mountain. What is the reason?"
Ziqin was silent for a moment and did not answer. After a long time, he held Qingqing in his arms and said calmly: "That was a long, long time ago, when there were still emperors and ministers in this world..."
"Ah!" Qingqing vaguely remembered what was said in the book, "If the world has a good emperor who is diligent and loves the people, the weather will be smooth and the years will be peaceful; if there are two or three emperors in the world at once,
, that is, wars and expeditions continue, and people are displaced..."
"Yes." Ziqin kissed Qingqing on the forehead, "That's exactly it."
"Just like what is said in the Linghu family's sect rules, 'If there is no history of peace, there will be no trace of fire and water.' If there is a dispute in the Jianghu, no matter how long the Linghu family lives in seclusion, they will definitely go against the crowd.
At least the people of one side are protected. The head of Mo Chen who originally established this rule was living in an era of dire straits and constant conquests by two emperors."
"Those two emperors, one is named Bai Yan and the other is named Wen Kang."
"Wen...Kang?" Qingqing reacted immediately, "He is the ancestor of Xihu!"
Ziqin hugged Qingqing's petite body and pressed her warm cheek against Qingqing's cool face: "Qingqing is so smart."
Then he raised his head and looked at the bright moon outside the window: "Later, the emperor named Bai Yan was finally defeated by Wen Kang. He committed suicide on the side of Xuantan, and his body sank into the bottomless pool. There is a gate in Nanlin.
Hermits have followed Emperor Bai Yan for generations. After hearing that the emperor died, they set up dense hidden lines on Xuantan to prevent Bai Yan's body from falling into Wen Kang's hands."
"The man-eating Hidden Thread on Xuantan came here like this..." Qingqing sighed, "What will happen to the Xi Hidden Thread clan next?"
"Emperor Wen Kang sent people there many times, and even came to Nanlin himself to look for them, hoping to bring the strange people and deeds of this clan under his command. Unexpectedly, there was no trace of those hidden traces, and they were not familiar to the people in the world.
Therefore, the tribesmen always closed their doors to thank guests and never left the Nanlin Forest. If they encountered an angry high-ranking official who pressed them hard, they would go on a killing spree and send countless heads to Emperor Wenkang."
Qing Qing also looked at the hazy moon. He thought that Chang'e's Jade Rabbit had been looking down at the human world for a long time, and he would have felt unbearable when he saw the tragic scene of rivers of blood.
"However, in the last war between the two emperors Bai Yan and Wen Kang, Wen Kang was able to win because he had three ministers who followed him all the way. Today, there are many unofficial historical books that also refer to the three of them as the 'Three Ministers of the Wen Dynasty'
'."
Upon hearing this, Qingqing couldn't help but feel nervous. She subconsciously linked her fingers with her master and then asked: