In the underground palace of the imperial mausoleum, seeing Zhao Rong leaving the main hall without saying a word and walking towards the back hall, Gui couldn't help but fall into deep thought...

"Zhao Rong."

It couldn't help but call out.

The Confucian scholar with the broken arm said nothing, clutching the jade token and sachet, and continued moving forward.

At this time, the purple sword spirit thought for a moment and said seriously:

"Zhao Rong, you don't want to have a good time before you die, do you?"

The young scholar who was walking forward silently couldn't help but twitch his lips. He paused slightly, shook his head speechlessly, and then continued to move forward.

At this moment, the white jade plate was emitting heat continuously, as if a piece of black jade thousands of miles away was being rubbed hard by a woman with autumn eyes, and the white jade plate was a little hot.

The one-armed scholar still ignored him and just held it tightly.

He walked through the long and narrow corridor and came to the closed door of the back hall.

There is a huge stone gate here, blocking Zhao Rong's way.

There was a faint sound of life behind the door.

According to the map of the imperial mausoleum, the weak and helpless concubines left behind by the late Emperor Dali were buried in this closed tomb.

Zhao Rong thought for a moment, then walked to the right side of the stone gate, stopped at the seventh floor on the right side, squatted down, tapped the stone slab lightly, and then opened it. According to his memory, he turned on the stone door switch.

Accompanied by a slight "boom" sound.

The heavy stone door slowly opened.

Zhao Rong walked into the room immediately, and after taking a general look at the situation inside the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Everyone is here.

The light in the back hall was dim, but the faint light from the pearl on the dome above was indeed brighter than outside, so people's figures could be seen clearly.

Zhao Rong looked around carefully, and within his field of vision, the eighteen masked women in white clothes that he had seen outside the waterfall that day were all there, not one missing.

They were kneeling in the hall in a very neat row. The white cloth covering their eyes had been removed, but the white veil covering their faces was still there, so their beautiful faces could not be seen.

What surprised Zhao Rong was that these concubines and widows, who looked very young and beautiful but had tragic fates, did not seem to have cried before. Before he came in, they seemed to be paying homage to the crystal moon in the dome above their heads.

Is this the beautiful and intelligent Li Nu? She is indeed not like an ordinary mountain girl.

Zhao Rong looked at it a few more times and nodded.

At this moment, because of the sudden intrusion of this unknown outsider, the rituals and prayers of the eighteen young women in white clothes and masks were interrupted. They all looked back in surprise and left.

They couldn't help but stand up and take a few steps back, away from the one-armed scholar at the door and retreat to the depths of the back hall.

They looked at him with different eyes.

At this moment, Zhao Rong withdrew his gaze from the figure of a seemingly underdeveloped little girl in the crowd in the hall, shook his head slightly, and muttered, "She is indeed a bit beastly."

Then he lowered his eyes, no longer paying attention to the different looks from the women in the hall, and began his last task...

Tear——!

There was a sound of cloth tearing.

The one-armed scholar blocking the door lowered his head and began to tear his clothes.

In the back hall, the eighteen masked young women gathered together could not help but stare and took a few steps back.

Then the next second, they were stunned again and stopped retreating.

Because the dirty one-armed scholar in front of him, who seemed to be in a hurry to tear off his clothes, suddenly knelt on one knee, spread the torn cloth in his hand flat on the marble floor, and then propped it up with his kneeling knee.

The sleeve of the one-armed scholar's right hand was empty and had been soaked with dark red fluid, and the roughly bandaged broken arm seemed to still be dripping with the dark red fluid.

But he didn't seem to care about it. He just raised his left hand, put his index finger and middle finger together, and wiped off the dark red liquid on his fingers from the blood-red and wet sleeves.

The one-armed scholar used his finger as a pen and wrote vigorously on the cloth on the ground.

The eighteen masked young women in the hall looked at each other.

This miserable and disheveled scholar with a broken arm...is he writing a letter in blood?

The one-armed scholar who was kneeling on one knee writing lowered his head, pursed his lips and said nothing, concentrating on writing. From time to time, he would raise two fingers again to add "ink" to the blood-red sleeve.

The hall fell into silence.

Only the one-armed scholar's heavy and rapid breathing and the sound of his two fingers rubbing against the ground were particularly loud.

After a moment, a complex map and corresponding text written in blood slowly appeared under his fingertips...

The one-armed scholar wrote cursive calligraphy in one go. After finishing, he retracted his two slightly trembling bloody fingers.

He supported himself with one hand and slowly stood up, but his bright eyes were still staring at the blood writing on the ground. His brows were furrowed, and no one knew what he was thinking.

The next moment, in the sight of the eighteen masked women in white, the one-armed scholar rubbed his blood-stained fingers on the relatively clean clothes around his waist, reached into his arms, and took out a white jade plate and a small sachet.

The one-armed scholar bent down, as if preparing to gently throw the two objects next to the blood letter, but in the middle of the process, his movements suddenly stopped.

The one-armed scholar frowned, lowered his head and sighed, then immediately tore off a small piece of cloth from his tattered scholar's robe, then knelt on one knee, and just like before, he dipped his finger again and wrote a small piece of blood.

This time there are not many words and the speed is much faster than before.

After a short rest, he rolled up the small piece of blood letter and put it into the small sachet using his teeth and one hand.

Just at this moment.

Among the eighteen women in white clothes and masks who gathered together, a tall young woman stood out. She seemed to be a person of higher status among these widows of concubines.

The tall, masked young woman walked towards the one-armed scholar at the door who was behaving strangely and looked haggard.

Seeing this, the one-armed scholar shook his head gently at her.

He pinched the jade token and sachet in his hand, then threw them over one by one.

The tall woman stopped, took the jade token and sachet with both hands, and looked down.

Zhao Rong didn't look at her again. He turned his head to look at the dark and unknown deep tomb passage outside the door behind him and took a deep breath.

He turned around and pointed at the women, pointing at the blood letter at his feet that stated everything.

Then.

He turned and strode toward the door.

In the quiet hall, eighteen women in white, including the tall masked woman, cast their eyes in different ways on the lonely back of the one-armed scholar.

Inside the hall, all this was done silently.

The one-armed scholar walked out of the stone gate, and paused slightly in front of the gate.

After standing there for a while, he slowly turned around.

The one-armed scholar took a last look at the two things in the hands of the tall masked woman in the hall.

"Wait a minute..."

He finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, but his tone was very serious.

"...No matter what happens outside, don't open the door."

The women in white were startled and looked towards the tall, masked young woman in front of them.

The latter was looking up and down at the embarrassed one-armed scholar carefully and did not reply for a while.

However, Zhao Rong no longer cared about them.

After he finished speaking, he lowered his eyes slightly and stared at the ground beneath his feet.

Suddenly, the one-armed scholar raised his hand and wiped the blood off his face vigorously, then he pulled out the sword from his waist and threw it into the hall.

Amid the crisp sounds of ping-pong.

The one-armed scholar, with only an empty sword sheath at his waist, turned around, activated the mechanism, closed the stone door, and strode away...

Just as the figure of the one-armed scholar outside the door disappeared in the dark tomb passage, inside the door, in the hall that had returned to silence, a tall, masked woman walked forward.

She came to the front door and saw a piece of blood written on the cold floor at her feet.

The dark red blood words have solidified.

The tall masked woman first glanced at the white jade in her hand, which was getting hotter and hotter, then lowered her head again and looked at the blood letter at her feet...

After a moment, she reached out and picked up the sharp sword that could help them be 'decent'.

The tall masked woman raised her head and looked at the heavy and tightly closed stone door with a complicated look in her eyes...

…

"Zhao Rong, why don't you go back and have some fun? I think you can talk to them and ask them to be flexible. This request shouldn't be too much."

Inside the tomb passage, Gui suggested.

Zhao Rong said nothing, but rhythmically tapped the scabbard at his waist with his left hand.

On the scabbard, there is an engraved pattern of the Black Bird of Destiny, which is an extremely glorious symbol in the hearts of all the Zhao family members in the world.

On the high-rise building beside the Heart Lake, the purple-robed sword spirit, who was tilting his head to leisurely enjoy the scenery, thought for a moment and said.

"At a critical moment, you could barely take care of yourself, and you still did so much for them. Well, Mr. Zhao's previous reason seemed to be... you and I are both mortals."

It nodded and said with a smile: "Then they should also be considerate of Mr. Zhao. This is fair."

Zhao Rong was staring at the front and silently reciting the countdown. After hearing this, he still did not reply, and suddenly reached into his arms and took out a small sachet that he had almost forgotten, which was also given by a little girl.

The one-armed scholar bit the opening of the brocade bag with his mouth, tilted his head, and poured something out of it into his hand. Then he clenched his left fist and rubbed it hard, then spread out his palm and wiped his dirty and thin face with his hand.

The face is even dirtier.

Now they were walking silently in the narrow tomb passage, as if they were going to greet something. Once they became quiet, the atmosphere became unconsciously solemn.

The purple-robed sword spirit who seemed to be leisurely enjoying the scenery was actually silently watching the one-armed scholar's actions, and then continued to ease the atmosphere.

It chuckled and said, "Speaking of which, our eldest son Zhao looks romantic, but if you think about it carefully, it seems that he is still a virgin, right?"

Upon hearing that the culprit had the nerve to mention this, the one-armed scholar, who was concentrating and forcing his eyes to stay open, could no longer hold back.

He said to it in a very sincere tone: "Gui Dajian Spirit, you don't have to say anything if you have nothing to say."

Return: “…”

There was silence between the two again.

In the silent tomb passage, the only sound was the hurried footsteps of Zhao Rong. The atmosphere became heavy again, making it hard to breathe.

Because, Zhao Rong and Gui were actually waiting for a certain sound.

"How long will it take?"

It suddenly asked.

Ask about the next time a disfigured old scholar breaks into the house and makes a crashing sound.

"Ninety... breaths."

The one-armed scholar stared calmly at the dark tomb passage ahead and muttered softly.

He paused and continued counting, "Eighty-nine breaths... eighty-eight breaths... eighty-seven breaths..."

Gui was silent for a while, "So where are we going now?"

"run?"

The one-armed scholar smiled, and at this time, he finally crossed the tomb passage.

Returned to the main hall of the underground palace again.

"Seventy breaths... sixty-nine breaths..."

The one-armed scholar calmly walked to the center of the silent main hall, then suddenly shook his head and asked curiously, "Why are you running?"

Gui understood immediately.

No more words.

Inside the brow chakra, a figure in purple suddenly stood up, walked to the railing of the tall building, and looked out at the heart lake which was calm but hiding an evil dragon.

However, at this moment, Zhao Rong raised his hand and rubbed his face, showing a bright smile, and suddenly said: "It should be... that old beast who should run away."

He pointed down.

The purple-clothed sword spirit was stunned, and this time, he indeed frowned in confusion.

"Forty-nine breaths."

In the center of the magnificent main hall, in front of the dragon coffin.

The one-armed scholar lowered his head, whispered something, then took off the scabbard from his waist, placed it horizontally on the dragon coffin lid, and then with a big hand, tore off the right sleeve that was tattered and soaked with blood.

He grasped the blood-red sleeve with his left hand and placed it above the empty sword sheath.

Drops of dark red blood were squeezed out in strings and fell onto the scabbard like a trickle.

The scabbard of the empty sword was dyed red, and a corner of the huge dragon coffin below was wet.

"Thirty-six breaths..."

The one-armed scholar held one end of the bloody scabbard and dragged the other end on the ground.

He walked with his arm hanging down, dragging the scabbard, to about three feet away from the dragon coffin, and then... he turned his foot and walked in a circle around the luxurious dragon coffin in the center.

"Twenty-one breaths."

After the one-armed scholar circled the dragon coffin three times with a radius of three meters, a bright red blood circle appeared on the cold and dark floor in the center of the magnificent hall.

This scene, which took place in the dim hall where the coffins were placed, was very strange.

Seeing this, Gui frowned even more confused.

The one-armed scholar stood quietly for a moment, then walked silently to the southeast corner of the hall, squatted down, and took out a white candle.

Light the candle and put it down.

A beam of orange light illuminated the southeast corner of the magnificent main hall.

This style of painting... seems to be getting more and more wrong.

Seeing this, the sword spirit couldn't help it.

"What...is this? What are you doing?"

It asked seriously.

"This? Heh... a ghost blowing out... a lantern. Eighteen breaths."

Looking at this living candle, the one-armed scholar squatting on the ground grinned, and then reported the time as if nothing had happened.

Gui: “……???”

Ghost...blowing...the lamp? Are you a member of the devil sect!?

The one-armed scholar stood up, dragging his scabbard, and walked back to the "blood circle" in the center of the hall without any hurry.

The sword spirit was silent for a moment, then looked around again, carefully taking a look at the strange layout of the hall...

It shares weal and woe with Zhao Rong and even sleeps together.

What kind of hidden secrets could he have? It knew everything, and the heart lake was right beside him. But now he was using these moves... Wait, something was wrong.

He raised his eyelids.

In fact, this guy has always had something that even this experienced sword spirit cannot figure out.

That is his bizarre ideas, strange train of thought, or way of thinking.

Even though it could see his mood changes at every moment based on the color of his heart lake, it was still unclear what this man was thinking... This was not the first time that the sword spirit had guessed wrong.

Thinking of this, the sword spirit suddenly remembered what Zhao Rong said when he just came in, and vaguely understood something...

Gui suddenly said: "Actually... Regarding your heart lake where the evil dragon and carp coexist, in addition to practicing the skills of the out-of-this-world warrior, there is actually... another set of skills."

The one-armed scholar who was lowering his head and dragging the scabbard of his sword suddenly raised his head, frowned slightly, and then relaxed again.

Nodding: "Nine Breaths...Speak."

On the high building, the purple-robed sword spirit lowered his eyes, looking at the evil dragon that dared not to stick its head out from the bottom of the Heart Lake, and the dark green colored dragon carp that dared not dive under the water, and finally spoke...