/p> In the forty-first year of Dayan, the first snow of winter fell for a whole day.

Heavy snow presses pine branches.

The beasts and ghosts in the mountains and forests seemed to be afraid of the sudden cold, and as night approached, there were no birds or beasts around, and no roar echoed in them.

There is no moonlight in the night sky.

but the earth was white.

Ahri descended the mountain and came to a remote village ten miles down the mountain, Jiming Village.

The village is not large, and there are about 100 people in the irregular and scattered houses, under the dim lights.

The villagers here rest from sunrise to sunset, never knowing what rivers and lakes are, let alone what grievances are. The legend of the sword and sword shadow does not exist in the after-dinner conversation, what they care about is that the third child of the Zhang family lost a captive rabbit yesterday and was accidentally caught as game by the Wang family's neighbors......

The first snow of the forty-first winter of Dayan.

At night, a woman in black came from the rivers and lakes quietly and silently from Jiming Village.

The woman's expression was cold, bordering on ruthless indifference.

Her eyebrows were dyed with snow, and she held a short blade in her hand.

Ahri is a dead assassin in the Nanfei Shogunate, the Nine Emperor Princes of the Great Yan Empire, and is the elite of the Nanfei Guest Seat. From the moment she was determined to follow in her sister's footsteps and underwent harsh and painful training, she was exposed to darkness and gore. So killing people is the easiest thing she is best at, and it is simpler than eating and sleeping.

Sometimes, Yan Nanfei spends even more thought on Ahri, who has been weak and sick since childhood, even more than Ling'er.

When she was ordered to take off the blade and be a personal maid by Xue'er's side, Ling'er always thought that Ahri carried all the luck of the two sisters in this life, bathed in the breeze under the bright sunshine, and lived a life of planting flowers, cutting grass, embroidering, female workers, dancing and writing.

As everyone knows, Ahri, who has gradually grown up, wants nothing more than to welcome the scorching sun and snow with her sister.

She is no longer the little girl who cries every time the wind and rain.

In the darkness of those years, she stepped on the peak of the mountain of corpses and bones, and finally became a guest seat of Nanfei at the level of her sister.

She was a wretched roadside beggar.

Later, she met the benefactor who brought her back to life.

So she was no longer a good person.

She never considered herself a good person.

She was aloof.

Indifferent to the world that had made it impossible for her and her sister to survive.

In addition to her sister and Yan Nanfei, who is regarded as a prince, and perhaps scholars, in Ahri's eyes, the whole world can be a dead soul under the sword!

……

Ahri was dressed in black, holding a short blade in the cold light and standing outside the window. There are three generations of grandchildren in the house.

An old woman who is over the age of old, a daughter-in-law with a docile personality, and a naughty grandson who is only about ten years old.

The pillar of the family joined the army and has not been heard from for a year.

The sensible daughter-in-law pondered that her mother-in-law's clothes were thin, and when the heavy snow cleared tomorrow, she led the child to the county to add a cotton coat for her mother-in-law.

The child's father is not at home, and he should always do his filial piety for his man.

The daughter-in-law cleaned up the dishes and chopsticks.

The old woman boiled water around the stove with a cane.

The ten-year-old grandson was surprised to see the snow and mischievously opened the door secretly, wanting to play with the snow while his mother was not paying attention.

The child's face was childish, and he stood in front of the door and looked at his beautiful and strange aunt dressed in black.

"Mother, there is a beautiful aunt. ”

The little lady who was busy cleaning up the dishes, chopsticks, tables and chairs hurriedly walked out.

Then I saw the child lying in the snow in front of the door.

The child's face was stained with undried blood.

As if the little lady who was a thunderbolt on a sunny day was not yet grieving, the bloodstained short blade in Ahri's hand was already on the little girl's neck.

"There is a red leaf mountain temple ten miles away, if you don't want to die, go and ask the people in the temple to go down the mountain. ”

……

There was no terrible wail in the village of Jiming in the middle of the night, but many people fell quietly.

Fell in front of the door, in the snow.

Ahri was as calm as ever.

With her light footsteps in the snow without a trace, she wandered through the village like a ghost.

The short blade in her hand seemed to drip endless blood, falling into the snow little by little, just like her footsteps.

Deadly footsteps.

……

It's late at night.

At the foot of the originally lonely Red Leaves Mountain, dozens of people suddenly appeared in the snow to catch up with the darkness.

They are all the people of Jiming Village.

Just a few hours ago, a short-bladed blade washed the village in blood.

Some children died, some husbands died, some wives died, some siblings died, some parents died.

They all lost loved ones.

inexplicably lost his life under that indiscriminate short blade.

They met the devil.

A devil dressed in black and with a beautiful face.

They begged at the foot of the mountain, knelt in the bitter cold storm and snow, begging the people in the temple to come down the mountain and beg the living Buddha to save them.

……

Dark night, white snow in the four fields.

A bonfire was lit at the head of the village.

I don't know if it was the smell of blood that dispersed with the wind or the movement of the fire from the campfire, which woke up many wolfdogs in the village.

Dogs barked one after another.

More and more villagers were awakened by the strange commotion of the night.

Ahri sits by the campfire.

The fiery red light reflected the beautiful but indifferent face.

Those delicate black eyes stared at the campfire in a daze, and no one knew what was thinking.

The blade has been washed by snow, and the blade is still sharp across the knees.

In the distance, the sound of Suosuo's footsteps came to his ears, hurried and chaotic.

As the elite of the Nanfei guest seats, Ahri has his own ability to listen to voices and distinguish people, and in the panicked footsteps, there is a cultivator's footsteps silently stepping on the snow without a trace.

But she didn't stretch her eyebrows.

Because she knew that the people invited by the villagers were not the ones she had to wait for.

The villagers flocked to the old Zen master of Momiji Temple.

The red leaf Zen master looked at the female benefactor who was still on the mountain not long ago, and felt the surging killing intent that gradually climbed around Ahri as the bonfire became more and more intense, and the old Zen master in a Buddhist robe in the middle of the night folded his hands and pronounced a Buddha name.

"My Buddha is compassionate. Donors must not add to the karma of killing. ”

Ahri never believed in Buddhism, let alone in Buddha's compassion.

When she was young, she had no food, no clothes, and no one to rely on.

The sky is unkind, and all things are used as dogs.

Can all things be benevolent?

Ahri's bright eyes revealed sarcasm: "The Zen master is good at crossing people, can you know how to cross yourself?"

Ahri's killing intent has climbed to its peak.

The north wind is getting stronger.

There were even slight cracks in the old Zen master's Buddhist robe.

Zen Master Momiji sighed bitterly in his heart.

If I can save these innocent people behind me, I won't go to hell, who will go to hell!

The Zen master sat in the snow, like a bodhisattva with low eyebrows.

"Amitabha Buddha ......"

……

It's late at night.

The villagers who did not dare to disobey Ahri's order carried the cold body of the old Zen master to the foot of the Red Leaf Mountain.

The Momiji Zen master passed away.

The monks on the mountain descended like a tide.

There is the sound of bells and drums from the Nanshan Drum Tower, spreading in this snowy and silent world, as if the Buddha voice is singing, sending the soul of the old Zen master back to the west.

Under the light of the blue devil's hand, the scholar who had become much thinner after his cultivation was dispersed walked down the steps.

Li Xingyun looked at the Buddha Zen Master who had passed away, and blamed himself and was heartbroken.

He asked the monks in the temple to take care of the innocent people who were implicated and the old Zen master's Dharma body and Buddha body, and accompanied by the hands of the blue devil, walked ten miles of snowy mountain road and walked to the front of Jiming Village.

(End of chapter)