Nightfall Chapter 62: Killing people and hoeing fields are not tired

Chapter 62 Killing and hoeing fields are differently tired

I first met at the age of four, can perceive at the age of six, and not confused at the age of eleven, entered the cave at the age of sixteen, and it took another ten years to climb from the lower rank of the cave to the upper rank, with consecutive victories to win the invincibility below the Zhiming No matter how you look at his name, Wang Jinglue, a figure in the Xuanfu Palace of Tang Dynasty, is a genius in the practice of Taoism.

But Wang Jing is very clear that one day he didn't face up with those young men and women who occasionally came out of unknown places. The name of this young monastic genius in himself is not solid.

So he hopes that others will say that he is a calm and experienced practitioner, and does not want the world to praise him as the so-called young genius of monasticism. He wants to have a demeanor that matches the advanced practitioners, so even if he is very young, He is also very healthy, and there is no lung disease. He always coughs twice from time to time.

But at this moment, he, who was sitting embarrassed in the spring rain, was really coughing, because he was choked by the rain because of fear and confusion. His face was pale and he looked at the thin and tall Taoist figure gradually appearing in the alley. The trembling grew worse.

The thin and tall old man who walked out of the alley was wearing a dirty robe. I don’t know how much oil and dirt are on the robe. The triangular eyes on his face flickered with the sparse long beard, and he looked very obscene. Indecent, there is no appearance of a worldly expert.

"I spent half a day drawing this talisman, what do you think?"

The thin, tall Taoist asked Wang Jinglue who was sitting down in the alley through the rain curtain. Under his feet, the middle-aged fat man in the Prince's Mansion had become a dead body, and the clothes on his body and even the skin under the clothes were cracking like pieces of paint that had fallen off over the years, looking extremely terrifying.

Wang Jing smiled tragically, looking at the tall and thin Taoist in frustration, and said: "I have no more than a dozen people in Da Tang Talisman. The one who is willing to wear the Taoist robe is naturally one of the four magic masters in the South Gate of Haotian Dao."

"It takes a rune like a rune master like senior to draw a rune that took a long time to draw. It is based on streets and alleys and rain is used as ink. This well character is naturally terrible... I just don’t understand why seniors don’t directly Kill me."

The runemaster of the South Gate of Haotian frowned slightly, waved his hand and drew a word in the air, drove away the annoying spring rain around him, shook his head and said: "Monk of the Moon Kingdom, the swordsman of the Southern Jin Dynasty, the military department Old man, these people die when they die, but you are not the same. I was ordered not to let you go, just to save you."

"Wang Jinglue, you have already stood on the threshold of the realm of life knowing at a young age. It is really rare. I heard news from the academy. The Chinese teacher and the imperial brother also commented on you, thinking that you will be 40 years later. It is very possible to touch the layer of paper above the five realms...It is not easy for me to be a young genius, so you must try your best to live for another 40 years!"

The expression on Wang Jinglue's face kept changing.

"Don't go back to the Prince's Mansion, go to the front line to serve for three years atonement."

After saying this, the runemaster turned around and walked into the dark alley, muttering: "Chunfengting is not a little cat or puppy. If he was so easy to kill, wouldn't it be more than ten years ago? I won't kill?"

The green sleeves vibrated slightly, and the thin green steel sword that fell into the rain buzzed and flew, returning to Chao Xiaoshu's hand.

He turned his head and glanced at Ning Que, who was standing behind him, and confirmed that except for some little blood-mouthed teenagers, he was not seriously injured. He nodded and retracted his sword, leaving the carriage and walking towards the front of the street.

Walking to the crossing of Chunfeng Pavilion, he stopped towards the small tree and looked at the place behind the rain curtain. Ning Que lifted his arm to wipe the rain off his forehead, followed his gaze, and was silent. After a long time, he asked: "Are you still waiting for someone?"

"Yeah." Toward Xiaoshu's right hand on the hilt, he replied: "A man named Wang Jinglue, but it seems that he will not come."

Ning Que frowned, handed Pu Dao from his right hand to his left, and asked: "Why?"

Looking back at Xiaoshu at the black mask on Ning Que’s face, he smiled and said, “It’s not easy for me to find a monastic genius. Maybe some people don’t want to watch him die in our hands.”

"I don't have the confidence of you." Ning Que recalled the repeated battles tonight, thinking of the powerful practitioners, thinking that if there was no Chao Xiaoshu in front of him, he would have died long ago. He said: "If your hole card played the role, why didn't he make an early move and want you to fight for life?"

"I explained to you in Lin 47 Lane. Once the hole card was revealed, no one dared to move the entire Chang'an City. Then there is no way to know how many hole cards the nobles have in their hands, and their Mind."

Chao Xiaoshu suddenly said: "Come with me?"

Ning Que raised his right arm, wiped the rain and blood off the blade with his sleeve, inserted the scabbard behind him, and nodded.

The rain was a bit smaller than before, and it fell in the streets around the Chunfeng Pavilion.

The hand towards Xiaoshu left the hilt, held it behind him, and walked on the quiet street. The blue shirt on his body was still straight and his face was still calm, but it was a few points paler than before the battle. There is no change.

Ning Que followed behind him, tearing off the corners of his clothes and tying the wound on his left arm as he walked. Although the blood ports were shallow and thin, he was still used to saving when he came out of Minshan. Every drop of blood and strength.

Wet Street in Yuxiang, the two of them walked around Chunfeng Pavilion, like a pair of lion brothers and tigers who had just gone through a **** battle and started touring their own territory.

Walking back to the main entrance of the Chao Mansion, a faint exhaustion appeared on Xiaoshu's face. He rubbed his eyebrows, lifted his blue shirt, and sat on the wet stone steps like this.

Several remaining Sergeant Tang rushed towards him shouting.

Ning Que drew the Pudao behind his backhand and slashed towards him. With each light of the knife, he would cut down an opponent. The soldiers of Tang sergeant who rushed to the stone steps fell in turn like trees. , At the same time, his mouth kept muttering: "People are floating in the rivers and lakes, how can they not be slashed, I slashed you to death, I slashed you to death with two..."

Chao Xiaoshu sat on the wet stone steps, braced himself with the scabbard tiredly, watching the scene in front of him, the bright color in his eyes became thicker and thicker, he had already seen Ning Que's knife belt In the shadow of the sword technique in the army, but more subtle choices of timing and direction of attack are the truths that can only be realized between life and death.

Ning Que's sword is calm and even simple, but occasionally it is as weird as raindrops. He always holds the principle that the knife is the most labor-saving, but the position of the knife is the weakest part of the opponent.

"This is the real sword technique to kill."

Looking at the blades of light towards Xiaoshu, recalling the strong will and the excellent ability of judgment shown by Ning Que in the scenes of the battle, and thinking of his true age, he couldn't help but sigh in his heart: " It's a pity that the little guy can't practice, otherwise the future of the Tang Empire will surely occupy an extremely important position."

Looking at the rain-soaked corpse in front of the house like rotten wood, watching the young man panting with a Pudao, he smiled at Xiaoshu and said, "Can murder be a bit poetic? It’s like hoeing fields."

Ning Que turned around, the Pudao on his shoulders brought a stream of blood, he looked at the middle-aged man on the stone steps, pointed at the night rain falling from the sky, panting and saying: "Wetness has always been there, as for **** Tian...Where can you be so tired of cutting people?"