"Jing is willing to use the ink sword as a vow, and is willing to use flesh and blood as a wall to bury the evil disciples of the sword outside Yacheng to protect the Allied troops. I hope that the plum blossoms of Jinling will remain the same in the twelfth month of the next year, under the fireworks in March, and in the west in June, and when the country is as beautiful as a painting, you can return home with peace of mind."

"For the word "no regret" in Jing's name."

On the high platform, everyone who has experienced the events of that year recalls a passage from the descendant of the Mo Jian before leaving.

It was a sentence that made the sword ancestor cry and sigh.

Lin Huaiman pondered and said, "Is this really true?"

"There's absolutely nothing wrong." Scholar Jingyue, who has always regarded herself as elegant and indifferent, swears strangely, "The soul is cleansed beyond the past and present, and the ink is dyed white and the world is dark. It's his sword! It's his sword technique!"

Back then, the ink sword was used to cleanse the soul and guarded the outside of Yacheng. Until the sword energy on his sword was absorbed by the enemy, he became an ordinary person, and was penetrated by thousands of swords and stained with blood. It is said that the leaves in front of Yacheng gate are bright red as blood, regardless of winter or summer all year round.

"Who is he who they said?" Ren Wangsi took advantage of his father Shen Siyuanyou and carefully pulled Ye Ying's cuff.

Ye Ying touched Ren Wangsi's head, looked at Ren Yueqing in contemplation with disgust, then looked up at the sky, "That's an extremely interesting person, wearing black clothes every day, just like a crow. He is also an excellent person. With his own body, he gathered the allies like a scattered sand army. Many people are willing to draw their swords for him and continue for him."

"What's his name?"

"Jing Wuhui. His name is Jing Wuhui."

"No regrets? What a meaningful name."

"Because of him, he never regrets anything he does."

"Don't you regret it?" Ren Wangsi chewed these four words carefully, but she was only fifteen years old and found it obscure.

A person who never regrets it should be very tired, right?

Luo Feiyu felt a continuous sword energy on the sword, and his hands holding the sword couldn't help but control the ink sword, and his steps were also pulled by the broad and clumsy ink sword, moving very quickly.

He had nothing else in his mind now, only the idea of ​​controlling the ink sword. However, every move of the ink sword in his hand, the mourning on the platform was even more, and in the end, it turned out to be sad and desolate as much as yesterday's grand ceremony.

They all saw the turbulent year when war was flying.

Thinking of those figures, they fell down where they couldn't see them.

Even Yue Qing, the director of the Poisonous Tongue Sect, closed her eyes.

"I was fortunate to pour a drop of swordslave blood for Hero Jing back then." Lin Huaiman sighed, unable to hide the sadness in his eyes.

"The friendship of fighting side by side cannot be forgotten." Liu Zangfeng walked over to comfort her, but did not touch her. "What we have to do is to avoid the catastrophe rekindled."

Lin Huaiman looked up at him, and the sadness in his eyes flashed for a moment, and then nodded solemnly to him.

Duan Duancheng looked at Mo Jian and seemed to recall something, "I used to hear my grandfather tell the story of Senior Jing. Whenever my grandfather mentioned this, he would cry. The sadness was no less than when he mentioned Uncle Yuluo and his father passed away. It was my luck to be lucky today, and it was also my luck to cousin Xuyu."

"Who is this young man?" Finally someone noticed another point of the matter and exclaimed the voices buried deep in the hearts of everyone present.

Duan Xuyu looked at the Qing Ghost Sword in his hand. The Qing Ghost pattern on the knife was dim for a moment, and the intention of the sword that was as powerful as the wind was cleared completely in this moment. The opponent in front of him seemed to have lost his spiritual sense. Although his footsteps and sword skills were proceeding in an orderly manner, it seemed that he would fall down at any time.

Sure enough, the next moment, Luo Feiyu Mo Jian came out of his hand, and he couldn't stand firm and fell forward.

Fortunately, a knife caught his face.

Duan Xuyu looked at him quietly and whispered: "This game?"

Luo Feiyu no longer had the strength to say the next thing, and his eyes were almost closed, but he couldn't help but say in his heart: Don't hold such a dangerous knife to help me, I'm so scared.

"You won." Duan Xuyu said leisurely.

OK. Luo Feiyu responded in his heart and fainted.

Gu Jingyao, who was in the audience, raised his eyebrows, "I have a record of winning all the games at the moment, and Brother Luo has also won all the games. Ah, it seems that most of the limelight has been separated."

Lan Chuyi looked around and said with a slight snatch: "I don't think I'm separated, but all of them were snatched away."

"It's okay. It's just a pity that he fainted, otherwise he would have to decide the winner with him." Gu Jingyao waved his hand and jumped to the stage.

On the high platform, there were many secret discussions.

As the host, Liu Zangfeng stood up first and ordered the subordinates: "Appoint him to rest."

Not far away, on the eaves.

Liu Zangyue, wearing a long robe and a fox mask, looked down at the competition platform, which made all the experts in the martial arts world unable to notice her existence.

"Aunt, how is his battle?" A tiles were peeled off from the eaves, and Liu Biran's voice came from the gap. She was drinking tea slowly, but sweat was oozing from her forehead.

"It should be a victory." Liu Zangyue replied.

Liu Biran heard the worries in Liu Zangyue's words, but the joy in his words was hard to hide. "Isn't this good to win fourteen games in a row?"

Liu Zangyue shook her head gently and sighed sadly.

Not good at all.

Liu Zangyue knew very well that the invisible distance between Liu Biran and Luo Feiyu was probably thousands of miles away. Because the sword technique he had just swung, Jing Wuhui said the mantra and the key points of the sword technique to a person word for it, the day before his death. She was also present at that time, as the apprentice of that person.

In other words, twenty years since Jing Wuhui's death, this sword technique may only be that person can do it, so Luo Feiyu's sword technique can only be taught by that person.

Sword Ancestor, Mo Jinshu.

Liu Zangyue sighed long, and did not answer Liu Biran's question, but murmured: "Master..."

Imperial city Luoyang.

A middle-aged man wearing a soft sword on his waist and dressed in willow clothes stood under Dingding's door and pinched a piece of letter paper to pieces.

"Master Liu, it's not too late." Aside, a man in an official uniform pulled a horse, "This is the best in my house and the fastest horse in Luoyang City. I hope it can send you to Gusu as soon as possible."

Liu Zangfeng pulled the reins with a dark face, "Thank you, Master Mo, for telling me about this, please stay here."

"No, no," Mo Wendong sighed, showing concern.

Seeing Liu Zangfeng moving further and further, Mo Wendong's face gradually relaxed. It was not until a young figure appeared behind him that he turned around and said, "Your Highness King Jing."

Ling Aoyang looked at the departure of Liu Zangfeng, "Teacher, you said you hope he can arrive in Gusu as soon as possible, so when do you hope he will arrive?"

"I wonder when your Highness hopes?"

"Of course, when the sword-clearing ceremony in Qingjiantang began." Ling Aoyang said coldly: "The spy gave me a few days ago, but what was rewarded was not a secret report, but a sentence that the second son told me. He said that this matter would not be as I wish."

Mo Wendong smiled softly, "Don't worry, King Xiao will die. As for King Cheng..."

"Don't the teacher want the second child to die?" Ling Aoyang suddenly asked.

"Aoyang, you must understand that when all living beings play chess, the world is in the game. While not regretting the move, you must also use everything and let the chess pieces reflect their own value." Mo Wendong said calmly: "When the chess pieces have no value, life and death will be taken away by the chess player, it is just a thought of the chess player."

Ling Aoyang was silent for a moment and nodded, "Aoyang has recorded it."
Chapter completed!