After just a few leaps, Ziqin had already carved many random lines horizontally and vertically on the hard empty stone tablet. Qingqing felt that the string sword was extremely sharp. The sword and stone struck each other, and the string tip penetrated the stone edge for more than a few inches. It's just that what the master carved on the stone wall, the dust and mist dispersed, and Qingqing couldn't tell for a while.
Ziqin hung on the stone wall, turned around and nodded to Qingqing. The hilt of the string sword was falling into Qingqing's hand. He hit the low stone with his backhand, and only heard a "dang" sound. The crisp Zhengshang was very nice. .
Looking up again, a lot of dust and dust fell down, and light-colored words began to appear in the ravines where the pen was strong.
With a tap of her toes, Qingqing rushed up five or six feet, turned the hilt of the string sword outward, and threw it back to the master's hand. Ziqin's green clothes fluttered in the air, and when he let go, he saw the beautiful A long hard mark was drawn vertically in the middle. The xianjian came to Qingqing again.
This time, Qing Qing pointed the tip of his sword at the stone, and three tones of "ding, ding, ding" flew out, hitting a string of horns, levies, and feathers that shook the sky. This time, even the stone roots under his feet were a little unsteady, swaying, and shaking down. A series of flying sand, earth and rocks.
Two large characters carved into the stone appeared before their eyes: Fanya.
Qingqing slowly slid down the stone tablet, feeling that her body was much lighter. It must have been the result of hard practice in Ishihara's music score in the past two days. Ziqin let go and fell, landing lightly and silently next to Qingqing.
Looking from below, the two big characters are like clouds of bones, one horizontally and one vertically, one stroke and one stroke, like light ink smoke and dust, stretching forcefully on the wind-swept ancient cliff.
There are few people in the world who can match Ziqin's calligraphy skills, but Qingqing still couldn't help but think that if the master had watched his master write the name of the music score, he might have no regrets.
She couldn't help but look up at the master's jade-like face. Ziqin's eyes flickered slightly, as if she was lost in thought while reading the words.
Ziqin also lowered his head and looked up. The moment their eyes met, he knew that the two of them were thinking the same thing. The two of them still smiled in unison, but this time there was a lot more bitterness.
Seeing that the sun had passed its peak, Ziqin patted his disciple on the shoulder: "Qing Qing, it's time for us to leave."
Qingqing nodded and said "Yeah", but still couldn't move. It wasn't until the master's gentle force gradually pushed behind him that Qingqing reluctantly walked a few steps slowly with his eyes fixed, looking at the two unprecedented people. The big characters finally turned into tiny dust, reflected in the white light and disappeared without a trace.
Ziqin stopped in front of a dark and cold cave. Perhaps it was because she had walked through a dark cave when she was a child. Qingqing felt that her heartbeat was beating faster and she could not help but shiver.
Looking at the endless darkness of the deep forest, Ziqin said: "Master will send you up."
Send me up? I just felt that Master was suddenly far away from me again. Qingqing suddenly grabbed Ziqin's sleeve and said: "Master, this disciple will only go with Master."
"My teacher didn't say I wouldn't leave." Ziqin smiled and rubbed Qingqing's head, "It's just that this method requires you and me to do it separately."
Qingqing lowered his head and said nothing. If he had to be separated from his master for so long, he would rather stay in seclusion in the strange stone plain for a few more months.
"Underneath the hidden line, there is nothing but cold water. No matter how hard the stone is, it cannot make a sound that can temporarily break the line." Ziqin paused, "That's why I will send you here and wait for you to reach the surface of the water." Then throw a stone into the water."
"Then Master..."
"There is another way you can try. But the Mid-Autumn Festival is approaching, so don't keep your uncle and aunt waiting in a hurry."
With his eyes flickering, Qingqing still held on to his master's sleeve and wouldn't let go.
Ziqin turned her hand around and tightly grasped Qingqing's wrist with her jade-white fingers: "Qingqing, what will happen if West Lake and Nanlin discover that you and Master are not on the mountain after the Mid-Autumn Festival?"
"..." Qingqing was silent for a while, then reluctantly uttered three words, ""Fan Ya Ji"."
Hearing Qingqing understand, Ziqin stopped talking, just smiled and let go of his hand. Qingqing finally let go of the master's sleeve and bit his lip: "Master, when I return to the mountain this time, the disciple will never leave again.
Already."
"I said it myself." She raised her eyebrows and Ziqin stared closely at Qingqing's bright and flawless eyes, as if expressing the infinite and indescribable feelings in her heart, "Remember to wait for me at the beach."
When the cold, dark pool water poured into his mouth and nose, Qingqing suddenly woke up. He felt that the strange rocks in the water were like a long dream, and he was drunk for many days.
The cup of clear tea disappeared from my ears, leaving only the endless buzzing sound.
It wasn't until wisps of light shone in front of his eyes that Qingqing held the palm-sized stone and leaned behind him: "Master, I'm waiting for you at the seaside." After saying this silently, he took a long breath and used up all the stones in his hand.
He threw his whole body upwards with all his strength.
Strings of pearl bubbles wrapped around the stones, cutting through the water as a pillar of light, jumping to the surface with the last trace of warmth in Qingqing's palms.
Finally, a "clang" sound was heard, and the long moment was frozen in the moment when the stone hit the hidden line. Qingqing closed her eyes and waited quietly.
Boom!
The underwater world suddenly shook, and thousands of layers of water waves hit and ravaged each other, like tears from the earth suddenly bursting out of the eyes. This was the sound of the earth shaking and the mountains shaking!
The hidden line on the water surface disappeared at this moment. Qingqing grabbed the edge of the dry grass on the shore, kicked up his legs, and finally dragged his wet body to the ground.
The soft murderous secret thread once again flashed with sharp cold light.
Looking around, there was no one around Xuantan, which was bustling that day, and the hidden threads hanging in the sky could not be seen. It was just shallow and slightly cool. Qingqing opened her eyes and closed them blankly, only the towering sky reached into the clouds.
Ruixin Tower still stands firmly in the haze of smoke.
Really not daring to delay for too long, Qingqing took a deep breath, looked for the direction to the east, and ran away stumblingly. He ran until he reached a place deep in the southern forest where birds and beasts disappeared, and then he couldn't hold on any longer, and he suddenly fell face down.
He fell to the ground.
Not far away, a small dilapidated temple vaguely reflected the light.
It was a plan to find traces of people tonight and borrow some food to replenish energy. With the decision in mind, Qingqing stood up again, put back his steps, and quietly approached the small temple.
Under the candlelight, a tall man is reflected, sitting sideways with no hair, eyes closed and hands folded, muttering something in a low voice.
The man had a long scroll of scripture spread out in front of his knees. If he looked carefully, he saw that the long scripture had more than a thousand words, but the small regular script was written neatly. Even the drawings on the edge of the text were not scattered one by one. I don't know.
It takes a mind as calm as water to create such an exquisite work.
The person reciting the sutra does not open his eyes, but what he recites in his mouth seems to become a tune, and gradually develops a vague and non-existent tone.
Qingqing couldn't help but become curious. He quickly shrank his feet, focused his inner strength in his ears, and listened carefully: "The lonely rainy night sky is in the wilderness, and the north wind blows the tomb into the setting sun..."
It’s Shajiang Yin!
The song passed down from generation to generation in Beiyi Crow Desert, the year before last, someone was singing it casually in Nanlin as if it was nothing. When Qingqing was shocked, he only heard an angry shout from inside the house: "Who is sneaking around outside!"
He quickly turned around and saw a string of black ribbons pushing out of the door and striking Qing Qing's chest through the air.
Qingqing didn't expect that the monk in the room suddenly made a move. He jumped back quickly and was a few steps ahead of the black silk. Seeing the dense forest behind him, Qingqing didn't have time to think. He raised his toes and smashed the gravel on the ground.
Put the "Thousand Miles of Clouds" in front of you.
The black silk fabric seemed to hesitate for a moment, no longer charging straight forward, but slightly going around the bend, as if it wanted to wrap Qing Qing in it.
The long silk floated into the air in a dense and dense manner, like a drift of yellow sand in the vast desert, flowing in undercurrents and moving silently in the wind. Before the end of the silk could approach, Qing Qing hurriedly retreated again, but unexpectedly, he panicked, and there was a "dong" sound.
Hit the tree trunk.
Almost subconsciously, he made a move, and the stones flew horizontally, and the familiar "crows flying across the board" lined up in front of him. The chess formation must have been enough to entangle the silk pieces for half a moment, so Qingqing did not want to delay and quickly ran away.
Before I had taken a few steps, there was a sudden ding-ding-dong-dong sound behind me. When I looked back, I couldn't help but be shocked:
The string of black herons flying in mid-air had all been knocked to the ground by the black silk.
A deep voice came from the temple: "Do you still want to hide?" The voice was loud and clear, as if he had exerted enough internal energy.
In desperation, Qing Qing turned around and said, "It is really a sin for a junior to take advantage of the road to travel a long distance and bother the seniors."
The dilapidated temple door creaked as I remembered that under the candlelight and moonlight, a tall figure appeared in front of the temple: "This poor monk has not seen such an outstanding 'brush array' for decades."
Biting her lip, Qingqing couldn't help but hesitate, wondering whether she should reveal her life experience to this monk she had never met before.
It was the black silk monk who spoke first: "The moon is dark and the wind is high, what is a young girl doing running around?"
"I can't make it in time. I wanted to pass through this forest overnight. I don't want to disturb the eminent monk..."
"Excuse me." The monk lowered his eyebrows and whispered, "Eavesdropping outside the door is not what an upright disciple of Li Rong should do."
Qingqing was stunned on the spot, cold sweat broke out on his back, and he quickly knelt down and kowtowed: "Disciple was entranced by what he heard for a moment. He knew that he shouldn't hide outside the door without authorization. Please punish me by the eminent monk!"
The monk shook his head and turned back.
"Head of Jimo!"
In desperation, Qingqing blurted out. The monk suddenly turned around: "What did you call me?"
"Linghu Qingqing, a disciple of Rongshan, was appointed to meet the head of Jimo."
The air seemed to condense a little, and there was silence for a moment. The monk took a long breath and said, "Come in."
After Qingqing settled down in the temple, the old monk brought a bowl of hot ginger soup. Qingqing did not dare to sit down, so he quickly took the bowl and bowed. The monk then said: "The age of the leader of Beimo should be
about the same as you."
"Yes." Qing Qing nodded, "The disciple and the master had a relationship at the Bayin Club."
"Then why do you call this poor monk the leader?"
Qingqing whispered: "It's "Shajiang Yin"."
The old monk suddenly laughed quietly: "It is indeed "Shajiang Yin". Linghu Ziqi is an elm-headed man who cannot understand the rhythm, but you can teach it well."
It must have been the "Flying Crow" move just now that caused the eminent Jimo monk in front of him to misunderstand. Qingqing held the hot thick bowl in the palm of his hand and said, "Since I left the Nameless Valley, I have been following Master Linghu."
"In this case..." The old monk nodded slightly without surprise, "Then you should go east, not north."