Wan Qiniang looked at the sword in Wei Yuan's palm, her lips slightly opened, and suddenly she smiled and said:
"That's right...but I won't just sit back and die."
"Which of us will live or die, we have to try it first."
The black hair on her back grew again, stained by the cold moisture, her fingers were blue and white, but her nails were sharp and black, and her red dress became enchanting, stained with black spots, giving off a mottled ancient look.
She returned to her ghost state again.
The expressions of Zhou Yi and Xuan suddenly changed. They could not hear the words of Wei Yuan and Wan Qiniang clearly, but they could understand the change. They immediately wanted to step forward to help, but the sinister wind in the ghost world suddenly changed.
It was so violent that they ran out of talismans and were in a state of weakness, unable to move forward.
Wei Yuan held the sword with both hands.
The blood on the sword turned into golden talismans.
When she saw Wan Qiniang transforming into a ghost again, she closed her eyes.
Then he shouted in his mouth and ran forward quickly, staring at the ghost's heart with his eyes. He stopped suddenly and handed out the sword in his hand. It was the simplest and most powerful direct thrust, but the experience from the battlefield made him
His sword was executed vividly.
Power rises from the feet, to the waist and legs, arms, shoulders, and finally to the wrists. Every muscle that needs to be used is used; from the ground under the feet to the sword blade, the collision of every joint transmits the power up, and is finally infused perfectly.
To the sword's edge.
To achieve such a perfect action.
Wei Yuan didn't think anything.
This comes from the experience gained from the life and death of Qi Jiajun's military soul.
On a battlefield where a moment's delay can mean death, such complex body movements do not need to be thought about.
The sword blade smeared with Lieutenant Crouching Tiger's blood penetrated Wan Qiniang's heart without any hindrance, and her arms and nails, like the old man just now, avoided Wei Yuan, as if she had sent her heart to the sword.
Same as the blade.
The blood on the sword violently destroys the soul.
"Why?"
Wei Yuan asked with his sword in hand.
Wan Qiniang's face returned to pale, she pursed her lips and smiled, but did not answer.
In the sky above the ghost realm, strange vitality began to fluctuate violently.
The illusion woven by the soul's longing collapsed bit by bit. High-rise buildings, pavilions, and gardens disappeared, revealing their true appearance of collapse and ruin. The rolled up withered grass was blown by the wind. Finally, violent fluctuations swept through, and the entire ghost realm was completely declared
disappear.
The aftermath before disappearing made Zhou Yi and Xuan Yi groan and fall into coma.
The thing in Xuan Yi's hand fell to the ground, made a soft sound, and started to move.
Wei Yuan also suffered a frontal impact, but the power of exorcism covered his body with a film-like shield, which cut off a large part of the damage. However, his face turned pale and a trace of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth.
When the soul body is injured, the external damage will not show up, but the strength will continue to drain away.
Wan Qiniang's soul gradually became transparent and returned to heaven and earth.
She looked at Wei Yuan, suddenly smiled and said:
"When Mr. Wei came here, he said he wanted to listen to Qiniang's song?"
"………good."
"Master, do you still have leisure and elegance now? I want to sing another song."
Wei Yuan nodded slightly.
Wan Qiniang stood in front of Wei Yuan and said regretfully:
"It's just a pity that we don't have musical instruments, so we can only sing a cappella."
"What's so difficult about this?"
Wei Yuan sat on a piece of bluestone, placed the Eight-sided Han Sword, which was on the verge of reaching its limit, across his knees, and tapped the sword with his fingers. The force was different, the striking places were different, and the sound was also completely different. It suddenly seemed like playing music, but
The sound of gold and iron is strong after all.
Wei Yuan said:
"I play the sword and sing for the girl."
"You've got a job, sir."
Wei Yuan paused and said, "Mr. Jiang, he has always been apologetic in his heart."
Wan Qiniang lowered her eyebrows and said softly:
"The matter is over, what's the point of bringing it up again?"
"I don't want to forgive them either."
"Well, that's natural."
Lieutenant Crouching Tiger, flicking his sword with his fingers.
The wind and rain have blown away all the wind, the dilapidated pavilions and pavilions, the ponds have withered, the beauties and patrons of the year have all dispersed, the rouge shop has no customers, and in the distance, high-rise buildings are rising from the ground.
Prosperity is like a dream, but when the girl raised her hand, shook her sleeves, her eyebrows softened, and she spoke in a low voice.
That was still the Jiangnan of the past.
……………………
Zhou Yi opened her eyes blankly.
She immediately recalled the scene before she fell into coma and shuddered.
Almost instinctively, he rolled to one side, and at the same time, he pulled out half of the sword on the ground in his hand, looked up, and was stunned.
The evil ghost is no longer seen.
The surrounding area is no longer that vast ghost theater. You can see the dilapidated appearance everywhere. Trees have fallen, rotted, and faint moss has grown. Mushrooms are growing on one side. On the windows of the ancient building
A white spider web is formed.
The lotus pond withered.
It's no longer gloomy here, just dilapidated.
Sitting on the bluestone with his back to the two of them was Wei Yuan.
Zhou Yi breathed a sigh of relief and said: "Are you okay...where is Wan Qiniang?"
Wei Yuan said calmly: "The soul was broken and returned to heaven and earth."
"As long as you wake up, it's time for me to leave."
He stood up.
Qiniang has disappeared, but the pair of red embroidered shoes, which is one of the evidences of the existence of the evil ghost, still remains. The ferocious aura has dissipated, but it is still not an ordinary object. It may attract the residence and use of lonely ghosts. Wei Yuan found
I bought a wooden box and put away the embroidered shoes and the pile of letter paper.
He thought of what Qiniang had said before she disappeared, and his thoughts paused.
Then he opened the black umbrella, turned around and walked out.
Zhou Yi saw the eight-sided Han sword that had gone through a hard battle inserted in front of the bluestone.
Wei Yuan's fingers were red and swollen and bleeding. Seeing that Wei Yuan had raised his hand to push the door open and was about to leave, Zhou Yi subconsciously shouted: "Who on earth are you?!"
Wei Yuan did not look back and replied:
"Just regular people looking at a museum."
"If you have the time, you can come and have a look."
He opened the door and walked out along the stone road. The rain had stopped, and the stone was reflecting the light. A tour guide passed by with a group of tourists and introduced loudly through the loudspeaker:
"...Everyone, look here. This is the most well-preserved ancient street in Jiangnan Province. There used to be many stalls here. Look here, this is Jixiangfang, a famous rouge shop in Jiangnan in the past. Women all wanted to
Could use the good rouge here..."
"And the front is Chunxiao Garden, also known as Chunxiao Tower, which was one of the two major theaters in Jiangnan Province during the Ming Dynasty. I think it will be open to everyone soon. When the time comes, you can have tea inside and there will be our drama troupe on the stage.
Singing operas and songs will let everyone experience the ancient Ming Dynasty style..."
The tourists nodded in admiration.
Among them were two little girls who were no more than six or seven years old. While discussing their favorite ancient dramas, they imitated the appearance on TV, raising one hand and picking up their sleeves with the other, innocently and innocently.
In the sound of footsteps.
Wei Yuan held an umbrella and passed by the tourists.
Walk away from each other.
In the mist and rain of the tower in the south of the Yangtze River, who remembers so many romantic past events?