Dali Imperial Mausoleum, the main hall of the underground palace.

The last nine breaths.

"Besides that martial artist from outside the realm, I also visualized the avenue landscape of another guy."

On the high building, the purple-robed sword spirit lowered his eyes and looked at the heart lake below.

"If the Dao of that martial artist from outside the realm is that the evil dragon and the dragon carp are clearly separated, and yin and yang coexist, then the demon dragon that was killed and eaten by the martial artist and whose Dao was completed also has a set of Dao skills, which is also about... the evil dragon and the dragon carp."

Zhao Rong frowned, nodded and said softly: "Six breaths."

Gui Beishou turned around and said directly: "What is a demon dragon? It means being possessed by a demon. The dragon carp dives down, crosses the cordon and enters the abyss, and is swallowed by a certain evil dragon in the abyss..."

"The dragon carp transformed into a demon dragon, and its physical cultivation level was raised to a higher level."

It is concise and to the point.

Upon hearing this, the one-armed scholar in the middle stage of Fuyao Realm took a deep breath and uttered two words: "Three Breaths."

The sword spirit's voice suddenly sank.

"Nine Breaths. As you are now, the Great Dao Dragon Carp can only stay in the Abyss for nine breaths. Even so, it will cost you a lot. Once the nine breaths are up, I will help you, the Dragon Carp, escape. Otherwise... you will never be able to come back."

It speaks very fast.

"Zhao Rong, martial arts entry level, nine breaths, is that enough?"

After reaching the Fuyao realm, the warriors and the Taoists parted ways.

Taoist practitioners focus on spiritual cultivation, Haoran Tianzhi Jindan...

The warrior continued to temper his body and climbed to the ninth level of martial arts...

As for the cultivators of the same realm, warriors are invincible in close combat.

After nine breaths of entering the devil realm, the physical body is elevated to a higher level, which means... a ninth-grade warrior.

The one-armed scholar dragged a blood-stained sword sheath in one hand and slowly walked into the blood circle drawn by blood in the center of the hall.

He turned around, supported himself on the ground with his scabbard, and nodded his head slightly.

"That's enough."

However, the sword spirit who knew the dragon-raising pond best did not breathe a sigh of relief when he learned that its move might help the one-armed Confucian scholar's plan. Instead, for some reason, he sighed softly.

It turned its head away and no longer looked at the heart lake below, where the dragon, carp and evil dragon coexisted harmoniously after so much effort.

The next moment.

Zhao Rong and Gui, who remained silent, turned their heads at the same time and looked towards the entrance of the underground palace.

There, was a dark tomb passage.

The time has come.

A grand and dark hall.

Blood dripped from the one-armed scholar's broken arm.

A beam of orange light in the southeast corner swayed from side to side, casting a vertical shadow of a candle on the wall.

Everything... is quiet.

There was no sound coming from outside.

There was no sound of the 'giant beast' shaking the imperial mausoleum's restrictions!

Gui whispered: "That old beast, is he...leaving?"

Zhao Rong stared at the quiet tomb passage without saying a word.

The sword spirit's tone was not only consciously raised, "Zhao Rong, did your wife or Zhu Yourong and the others come in time? They scared the old beast away, or killed him directly!"

Zhao Rong still didn't speak.

He suddenly turned his head and looked at the lonely candle in the southeast corner of the main hall.

Gui Zheng heaved a sigh of relief. Seeing that Zhao Rong was acting strangely, he asked curiously, "Say something. Hey, what are you looking at...what the hell is that light you put in the corner?"

"Hey, why is its fire jumping all the time? The flame is even crooked."

Zhao Rong stretched out three fingers of the hand that was holding the scabbard, and slowly turned his head while feeling something in the hall.

He whispered, "There's wind."

There is wind blowing the candles.

Gui was stunned. "Wind? Where did the wind leak in from this airtight underground palace?"

…

The one-armed scholar felt some kind of air current coming from behind with his outstretched fingers. He turned around, glanced around, and finally... landed on the tall dragon coffin.

Gui followed his gaze and exclaimed in surprise: "Is there wind in the dragon coffin?"

Zhao Rong raised his head and looked around at the secret underground palace, then looked down at the dragon coffin with wind leaking out, and pursed his lips.

I don’t know what he is thinking about.

The sword spirit couldn't help but repeat, "There's wind leaking out of this dragon coffin! Zhao Rong, you're so lucky! It's true that there's always a way out. This is really your fate, and you shouldn't die!"

It said in surprise: "Zhao Rong, there must be something fishy going on inside. There is probably an exit hidden inside. Otherwise, where does the wind come from? Quickly pry it open and find out what's inside to see if we can escape! While that old beast outside is not making any movement for some reason, we must hurry!"

Hearing the sword spirit's hurried advice.

The one-armed scholar did not move.

He stood there for a while, and withdrew his calm gaze from the dragon coffin, as if nothing had happened.

In the blood circle in the center of the Kong**** Hall, the one-armed scholar suddenly started to make a strange move.

He held the scabbard and continued walking in the blood circle.

He walked with pauses, turning from time to time.

One end of the scabbard dragged on the ground, and drops of blood stained the floor red.

Zhao Rong moved slowly and methodically.

As if in no hurry at all.

This time, he no longer used the bleeding scabbard to draw a simple circle, but...

Following the path of his footsteps, the dark red blood gradually outlined a strange pattern on the cold, black floor.

Looking at the pattern on the ground, which seemed harmonious and beautiful at first glance, but became more and more mysterious and strange the more he looked at it, he was stunned.

"This is……"

"Hexagram."

After the one-armed scholar finished drawing the last stroke of the hexagram, he stopped and answered calmly in his heart.

Gui: “……???”

I understand every word you said, but what does it mean when you put them together?

Zhao Rong saw the self-doubt and confusion that the sword spirit was in, but did not explain.

Of course it doesn't recognize this thing, even if it was an unknown powerful being that could travel outside the world before its demise.

However, this hexagram pattern belongs to the world of Zhao Rong's previous life and should have never appeared in this world. It is normal that it does not recognize it. It would be strange if it recognized it.

The one-armed scholar chuckled inwardly.

At this moment, in the main hall of the magnificent underground palace, if you look down from the dome, you will see a picture like this:

With the central dragon coffin as the center, a mysterious blood-red hexagram "blooms" in all directions.

A blood circle connected the six corners of the hexagram, surrounding it and the dragon coffin.

In the southeast corner of the hall, a white candle burned silently with flickering flames.

Once again frightened by the strange thing that the Sword Master took out, the purple-clothed sword spirit, who always regarded himself as a senior, suddenly became unhappy and said proudly with his arms crossed:

"What are you laughing at? What six-pointed star... It looks like a ghostly talisman. Hey, are we going to leave or not? Let's go open the coffin. Why are we wasting time drawing this?"

The one-armed scholar dragged the scabbard and walked calmly into the blood-red hexagram. He came to the dragon coffin, jumped lightly, and sat on the dragon coffin.

Drawing strange blood circles, drawing mysterious hexagrams, and performing eerie "Ghost Blowing Out the Light"... these are certainly not for the sword spirit to see.

At this moment, the main hall of the underground palace.

He was wearing blood-soaked white clothes, sitting alone on the dragon coffin, with the scabbard of his sword resting on his knees, and whispered, "He's here."

"What do you mean he..." The sword spirit stopped talking suddenly...

"What are you drawing?"

From the long, dark tomb passage that the one-armed scholar was calmly facing, an old and hoarse voice suddenly rang out.

A disfigured old scholar walked out slowly from the darkness where he had been standing for a long time.

He asked with a chuckle.