"Who's behind you? Who gave you these?!"

Zhao Rong raised his head suddenly, staring straight at the old scholar whose smile was becoming more and more crazy.

His eyes were as sharp as a sword.

The old man in front of him was very different from what he remembered him to be.

When I saw this old scholar on Zhuque Street half a year ago, he was dressed in gorgeous clothes, tall and solemn.

But now he is disfigured, hunchbacked, miserable and weird.

I don’t know what he encountered and experienced these days. The old man was carrying an unknown fourth-grade golden elixir and a mysterious pipe, and he might even have some other tricks up his sleeve.

It seems that he is only seeking revenge...

Qin Jianfu did not answer when he heard this.

Quietly hung the gray pipe back on the copper pipe.

Behind him, the pretty girl and the flying sword swing who were about to jump up were once again fixed in place as if by a spell.

The girl's biggest trick to turn the situation around has been revealed, and this time, the old man doesn't need to deliberately expose the flaw.

Moreover, just as 'that person' said with a smile, this pretty girl following Zhao Rong really had something that could kill him.

Unfortunately, everything is under the control of 'the person' who gave him the pipe and the golden elixir.

Thinking of this, the crazy smile that had been on the disfigured old scholar's face since he appeared slowly faded.

He became as cold and gloomy as an ancient well without ripples.

Qin Jianfu no longer hesitated. He stretched out his withered hand to his side and grabbed in the air with his five fingers. The purple gold token on Zhao Qian'er's waist that was about to be activated flew up with a whoosh, broke the rope, and fell into his hands.

The old man lowered his head, bent a pair of dry fingers slightly, and gently opened the mouth of the gray pipe.

He threw the purple gold token which symbolized the identity of the genius seed of Taiqing Xiaoyao Mansion and also served as a positioning and deterrent.

The purple gold token shrank in circles, drew an arc, and was sucked into the pipe.

Qin Jianfu hooked his withered finger towards the crystal sword hanging in the air not far away.

The swing moved, but this time the sword was not drawn according to the owner's wishes.

It let out a mournful sword cry, then spun uncontrollably, the sword body shrank, and like the purple gold token, was sucked into an unknown pipe.

The situation is unclear.

Zhao Qian'er's breasts heaved violently.

She pursed her lips tightly, her eyes still glaring murderously at the calm old scholar.

However, the next second, a streak of bright red blood slid down from the corner of her tightly pursed pale lips.

The sword cultivator lost contact with his innate flying sword, which was connected to his mind, just like a fish losing its gills.

The girl's eyes were red, but her face was stubborn and she refused to yield at all.

However, Qin Jianfu did not look at the wild girl behind him.

He turned his head and clapped his hands as if he had just finished a few insignificant chores.

He walked towards Zhao Rong as if nothing had happened.

The disfigured old man was hunched over, with a three-foot-long copper pipe between the fingers of one hand, and the palm of his hand quietly holding the gray pipe. He raised his other hand and casually brushed the dust off his sleeve.

Move neither too fast nor too slow.

Approaching Zhao Rong step by step.

The disfigured old scholar looked at the young scholar with a terrifying calmness.

This time, it seemed that he would not wait for Zhao Rong to finish his last meal.

However, in the yard, a young girl's body was trembling violently.

She squeezed out a few words with difficulty, "You, you, you let go...Brother Rong'er..."

Qin Jianfu raised a bent, dry finger without looking back.

The next second, the pretty girl paused.

“Hmm…Hmm…Hmm.”

Zhao Qian'er's mouth was completely sealed by an invisible magical force, and she could only watch the old scholar's hunched back approaching the unarmed Rong'er.

A desperate whimpering sound gradually came out of her throat.

However, Zhao Rong did not look at the girl.

He turned around and said to Qin Jianfu calmly and seriously:

"I will die without resistance. I will cooperate with you in any way I want to die... You... let her go. Just let her go."

The girl trembled and burst into tears.

Qin Jianfu raised his eyelids.

He saw that the young scholar in front of him looked at him with an unprecedented seriousness and... pleading?

"Hehe."

The old man, who was so calm and indifferent, finally smiled.

He turned around in an instant and walked directly towards Zhao Qian'er, who was in a daze.

He would first kill the person the young scholar cared about.

Just like the young Confucian scholar left him helpless in the face of the death of his beloved son.

Zhao Rong, who had remained calm all the time, suddenly stood up.

He clenched his teeth and trembled all over.

"Calm down! He is trying to provoke you on purpose, stay calm..." Gui hurriedly advised.

However, Zhao Rong was like a dragon whose reverse scale was touched and he could no longer listen.

His cheeks puffed up and down violently as he gasped, and his gums were cracked and bleeding.

"How dare you!!!"

The young scholar roared loudly, as if he would rush forward in the next second.

Qin Jianfu ignored him and continued to move closer.

However, at this time.

“Ahem…!”

The old man suddenly turned pale and a violent coughing fit started in his throat.

He bent his waist like a shrimp and slapped his chest violently, as if he wanted to cough out everything in his stomach.

The coughing old man picked up the copper pipe with trembling hands, moved forward with trembling lips, held the mouthpiece, and tightened his chest, preparing to take a deep puff.

At this moment, behind the old scholar, the young scholar, who had already been furious, took a decisive step forward and waved his sleeves towards the hunched figure of the old scholar.

"Wait, don't do that!" Gui suddenly advised.

But it was too late.

Just as the words came out of its mouth.

A bright red maple leaf that didn't seem to belong to late autumn flew out from Zhao Rong's sleeve...

One leaf can herald the coming of autumn.

Autumn also knows red leaves.

The leaves are red, and autumn is still here.

In a flash.

The whole bamboo forest was ablaze red.

Countless red leaves are scattered across the branches.

It seemed as if the entire bamboo forest was burning in flames, covering the courtyard where the young Confucian scholar, the disfigured old Confucian scholar, the pretty girl and others were.

In the originally quiet surroundings, there were suddenly sounds of the river, the rustling of the maple trees in the wind, the recitation of a scholar, the singing of a fisherman, the shepherd's flute of a child, and the pipa of a boat girl...

The sound never stops, the sound continues, the sound... turns into the solemn and murderous autumn atmosphere.

An old man in a Confucian robe with a dark complexion appeared in front of Zhao Qian'er, who was crying with her eyes closed and unable to speak.

Mr. Yan had his hair tied up meticulously, was serious in expression, and wore a red maple-colored robe.

Block the pretty girl.

"Mmm...Rong...Mmm...Brother..."

Looking at the figure in front of her that blocked her vision, Zhao Qian'er's eyes were red. She wanted to speak at this moment, but her mouth was sealed and she couldn't utter a complete sentence.

She hated Brother Rong'er so much that she wanted to tell him to get out of here right away.

Didn't we agree that when Uncle Bai wasn't around, she would protect him? What was this? It was all bullshit male chauvinism. Qian'er hates you so much! You don't give Second Lady face. Woohoo...

Run away quickly, silly brother Ronger...

Under Zhao Qian'er's feet, an autumn breeze swirled up, carrying the red leaves and taking the crying girl away with the autumn air.

The maple leaf projection prepared by a certain academy teacher for his beloved disciple quietly blocked the pretty girl and the old scholar.

In less than a breath, Zhao Qian'er disappeared.

Seeing this, the young scholar's shoulders slumped slightly and he let out a breath of foul air.

He understood what Gui's dissuasion meant, and the two of them understood each other tacitly.

Qin Jianfu's "coughing and smoking" flaw was probably deliberately acted out to lure him into revealing his trick.

Let the 'accident' no longer be a surprise.

but.

Zhao Rong was willing to take the bait, but he was actually being tricked.

"As long as one survives... that's enough."

He lowered his head tiredly and did not look at the disfigured old scholar who had suddenly recovered.

He rubbed his face, and then was about to touch the white jade pendant and the sachet at his waist one last time.

When the strange sight of red leaves in the bamboo forest just appeared and the figure of an old man in Confucian robes with a dark face stood in front of Zhao Qian'er, Qin Jianfu, who was coughing madly and preparing to smoke a gun to save his life, suddenly restrained his painful expression.

The old man straightened his back with a cold face, and first glanced at the place where the crying girl, who was like bait, left.

He turned around and looked at the young scholar who had not completely fallen into the trap.

This kid stayed? But...

"Don't even think about running away, hehe..."

The disfigured old scholar suddenly laughed.

The next moment, the old scholar followed a certain locked energy and his figure suddenly disappeared from the spot.

Zhao Rong suddenly raised his head and looked at the empty courtyard.

I was so scared that I broke out in a cold sweat.

Sure enough, in less than three breaths.

Something happened that made him breathless!

The figure of the old scholar suddenly appeared at the same place. This time, his five fingers like the dry claws of a vulture grabbed the shoulders of a crying girl with red eyes.

Brought her back.

In the old man's other hand, he was holding a broken and yellow maple leaf between two fingers.

Around the courtyard, the red leaves in the forest are rustling.

Qin Jianfu looked at Zhao Rong coldly, then he closed his dry hands and crushed the maple leaf, which had been bright red not long ago.

The red bamboo leaves in the bamboo forest that were smoked red by the autumn clothes all disappeared.

The old man smiled, loosened his five fingers, and waved away the maple leaf dust.

Zhao Rong's mood plummeted.

My back was soaked with cold sweat and felt chilly.

This was the worst possible scenario he had ever wanted to think about.

Gui Ning said, "Your cultivation is too low, and you don't even know that your Qi is being locked. If you don't have the shielding methods of high-level cultivators, then no matter how fast you run, as long as you are within a thousand miles, you will be locked by the Qi of the Jindan realm cultivators within three breaths."

"Thousands of miles...three breaths..."

Zhao Rong took a deep breath.

He then recited the sword spirit's lost words softly, lowered his head, and reached into his sleeves to search for something.

Not far away, the disfigured old scholar who had returned did not immediately deal with the crying girl.

He grabbed him immediately and looked at Zhao Rong's expression, as if he wanted to see some look that would make him feel extremely comfortable.

Only those who are extremely hateful know that when it comes to revenge, the most important thing is not killing, but torturing the one you hate, and mental torture is greater than physical torture.

However, he was a little curious about the reaction of the young scholar in front of him.

The old scholar looked at the young scholar who was busy with his work with his head down with great interest.

Zhao Rong suddenly felt a warm sensation around his waist. It was Qingjun's white jade token.

The beauty was thinking of him from afar, rubbing the black jade plate gently.

The young scholar lowered his head, his hands moving constantly. This time he had no time to respond.

Maybe in the future too.

Zhao Rong took out the sword left by his mother from the Xumi object and put it across his waist.

He remembered Mr. Yan once said.

A gentleman dies, but he does not take off his hat and his expression does not change.

In my memory, the gentle mother whose face had long since become blurred said again.

Men of the Zhao family should hold the sword and go to death.

Finally... when you think about it carefully, it seems that Zhao Ziyu is still a cheap sword master.

There is a cheap sword spirit. Although it has never done what it wants and is extremely despised by it, it cannot really be despised by it, right?

In the courtyard where the autumn wind was blowing suddenly, the young Confucian scholar held the hilt of the sword with one hand, straightened his back, and raised his other hand to adjust his crown.

In the heart lake, Gui was a little alert and asked, "What are you going to do?"

Zhao Rong's tone suddenly became a little regretful, "What a pity, I was going to give this old beast a good punch, but I am still a gentleman, and a... Peach Blossom Sword Master, so I am polite."

Sword Spirit: “…”

"I'll say it one last time, it's called Fu Shi, not some bullshit peach blossom!"

"oh."

Zhao Rong nodded gently and suddenly said, "Gui, I have actually had a question for the past year, but I don't know whether I should talk about it or not."

"It's not worth talking about. Don't talk about it." The sword spirit was very disrespectful.

The Sword Master smiled, and his tone was declarative, not interrogative.

Well, is it your turn as a little sword spirit to object?

He smiled and said, "Do you really dislike a handsome sword master like me or are you just pretending..."

The sword spirit said without a second thought: "I really despise you."

The young scholar choked, then burst into laughter and nodded with a bright smile.

He is really happy.

As we all know, the sword spirit's words should be interpreted in reverse.

Then, the Sword Master's expression suddenly became solemn.

In the small courtyard in the bamboo forest, Zhao Ziyu, who was at the Fuyao realm, with a seven-foot tall body, calmly raised his head, straightened his clothes, and silently looked straight ahead at the old Confucian scholar at the fourth-grade Jindan realm. In an instant, he ran forward with his sword in hand.

Today is a chilly autumn day, a good time to die.

Qin Jianfu's originally calm pupils shrank.

Seeing this lowly ant that could be crushed to death with one hand, he refused to give in and actively sought death.

The old scholar, whose expressions had been either true or false since he appeared, but whose mentality had always been that of a cat playing with a mouse, suddenly became inexplicably angry.

I'm angry for no reason!

The young scholar ran forward faster and faster.

Rushed towards the old scholar.

The blood-red tassel hanging from the hilt of Wen Jian covered the back of his hand that was holding the sword.

The five fingers were pinched until they turned blue and blood was lost.

The old scholar took a step forward and said, "You little bastard, you are looking for death!"

The young scholar drew his sword in silence.

Inside the Heart Lake, on top of a tall building, the purple-robed sword spirit looked down at the dark green glazed dragon carp in the lake that was shining brightly, and sighed and laughed.

In the hospital.

The old scholar was furious. He threw the pretty girl with tearful eyes to the side with his big hand and suddenly pulled out the old copper pipe. At the same time, the rage of the golden elixir produced a terrifying force field as heavy as a thousand kilograms within a hundred meters around the old man.

The young scholar's body paused slightly, like a bull crashing into an invisible quagmire, and his speed became slower and slower.

Blood was flowing from all his seven orifices, but the direction of the sword in his hand did not change at all.

One inch...

One millimeter...

One cent...

When a person moves forward, the sword moves forward; when a person dies, the sword stops.

Qin Jianfu laughed angrily.

The big hand grabbed the copper pipe and smashed it directly at the top of the head of the young scholar who was already one meter close to him.

Then……

Then a woman took over the sword from the young scholar's hand.

And then.

The copper pipe with the power of the golden elixir broke into pieces.

The whole place was dead silent.

It turned out that a large area of ​​ink suddenly flowed out from the palm of Zhao Rong's hand holding the sword, where a female teacher from the academy had secretly written words twice.

The source of ink color is the character "永" (Eternal) and the character "正" (Positive).

Ten strokes, simple and unpretentious.

But it can be disassembled to form the characters created by all the saints in the world.

The ink color is like fog and water, spreading out.

The entire bamboo courtyard looks like it is covered with a layer of landscape canvas.

A quiet and dignified woman in Confucian clothes walked out of the landscape painting and came between two Confucian scholars, one young and one old, who were about to collide.

With her face blurred, she gently stopped her confidant Lan Yan who was about to die with one of her slender hands, and took the sword from his hand with the other.

The woman in Confucian robes turned her back to the disfigured old scholar, lowered her head, and put the sword back into the scabbard on the waist of the stunned young scholar.

Then she gently straightened the corner of his clothes.

The copper pipe that was thrown at the woman behind her shattered silently.

Her figure in the ink-colored Confucian robe also faded by half.

It's like ink diluted by water.

The woman in Confucian robes acted as if nothing had happened, her slender figure motionless.

She slightly raised her ink-blurred face and shook her head gently at Zhao Rong.

Zhu Yourong's projection was unable to speak, but to someone, it seemed to be able to convey those words...

Tzuyu, you are not allowed to die.

She spoke in a commanding tone.

Zhao Rong was silent.

…

A certain Confucian lady who loved to eat ink and write knew it very early on.

For the seven-foot-tall man she likes, that only happens when he thinks about death.

He will truly die.

Otherwise, who could kill him?