The night is like ink, the moonlight is like water, and there are people walking slowly under the moon.

It's the left swordsman.

He walked among the flowers, but there was no road between the flowers, and if ordinary people passed through it, they must have destroyed the blooming flowers, but the left swordsman was not an ordinary person.

His steps were light and comfortable, and he passed through the clusters of flowers, but the flowers he saw only shook as if a breeze was blowing, and then they were still blooming beautifully and proudly, no different from before. Looking closely, it turns out that the left swordsman is not really walking among the flowers, his feet just float over the top of the flowers, more precisely, stepping on the petals.

I only heard that there is a "flying on the grass", as the name suggests, it is to walk on the tip of the grass, which can only be done with very good light skills and relatively strong internal force, but it may not be as easy as the left knife now.

With the moonlight and stepping on the flowers, this artistic conception can only be glimpsed in the poems of literati and elegant guests, which is really romantic and desirable. But Zuo Daoke doesn't seem to care, and he may not even pay attention to what he walks on, too, he is not a romantic person, let alone a very emotional person, according to his words, he is a martial artist, more emotional than the layman, less interested than the literati. For example, when he was on the top of the attic before, he had a lot of feelings, but they were only feelings.

Why might he not have noticed where he was? Because his eyes were always looking ahead, never taking their eyes off. What could attract his attention in front of him? It was pitch black, and even though the moonlight at this time was the brightest in the evenings, and even in this month, it still couldn't illuminate the "black fog" in the distance.

The left swordsman faced the depths of the night, and there was a light behind him, but as he walked forward, it had gradually faded, becoming a few clusters of light, like stars that sometimes sparsely passed through on a cloudy day, and like fireflies resting somewhere.

He walked farther and farther away, and in the depths of the night, there was no way to distinguish the direction by the moonlight, and he couldn't tell where he was, but the left swordsman did not panic, and looking at his confident steps, he seemed to be familiar with this place.

Zuo Daoke is indeed very familiar with this place, because he doesn't know how many times he has been here, whether he has been here in reality or in his dreams, anyway, this place has always been worrying to him. He clearly remembered that it was at night, and the moon was equally big and round that day, but not as big and round as it is today, and there was still wind at that time, and the wind was very strong, and he still can't forget the feeling of blowing on his body that hurt to the bone. Everything was suddenly clear from the moment he came, as if it happened yesterday, and the fragments of memories in his mind were spliced together little by little, and finally experienced it all over again.

Looking for the traces of memory, the left knife man did not hesitate at all, maybe it was only a while, or maybe a long time passed, in short, the left knife man didn't know, the only thing he knew was that the shadow of a tree was gradually emerging not far away.

The tree was so thick that its trunk was unusually thick, the size of three or four people hugging each other.

The left swordsman approached and stood under the tree, his sturdiness in his own life has always been crowned with the title of big shoulders and round waist in the impression of many people, but compared with the unusually majestic tree around him, he really looks delicate, and there is an illusion in a trance, as if the tree has become a person, and at this time the person has become an ant under his feet. A few years ago, there was a crazy novel in the rivers and lakes, with a peculiar name, called "The Stars Record", the content is different from the popular love and hatred in the world, and it is not the great ambition of young people to serve the country. In the book, the stars are used as a metaphor for people, and the sky is a metaphor for nature, and the stars and the sky are not very small, just like people are like a drop in the ocean in nature. The most famous and the most word-of-mouth is the sentence "The world is so vast, and people are so small". Some people laughed unbridled after hearing this, laughing at the exaggeration of the content, laughing at the author's bold words, and now, looking at the scene again, without words, it just proves that this sentence seems to be shocking words.

The left swordsman stroked the trunk with his left hand, the bark was rough, and his calloused hands were rough.

He touched it gently, until he touched a deep trace before stopping, for a while nostalgic and sad, opened his mouth several times, closed his mouth several times, did not say a word, and finally closed his eyes and finally spit out a few words: "I'm back".

The silent night sky, the breeze rustling, the rustling of leaves, and the centuries-old trees shook their branches as if to speak, responding to the left knifeman. In fact, it's just a gust of wind that has just started, but Zuo Daoke's own fantasy is just that, but his heart is still warm, as warm as seeing an old friend.

After staying quietly for a while, the left swordsman opened his eyes, full of streamers, but they were fleeting, all in his eyes, and the rest was indescribable firmness, and he slowly spoke for the second and last time: "Wait for me." With that, he turned around and went in the direction he had come, without stopping, and disappeared into the night in the blink of an eye.

The moonlight was cold, reflecting on the trunk of the old tree, and the temperature of the palm of the left knife man had not yet dissipated, and the handwriting of Juanxiu in the residual temperature became clearer and clearer.

In the attic, the candlelight on the table flickered, and the flames that had been picked several times were delicate and would be extinguished at any moment, but still stubbornly emitted a faint and dim light. Under the light, Huiyuan lay on the table and fell asleep.

He picked the lamp, afraid that the light would be too bright and wake up the sleeping Changqing, but at the same time he was anxiously hoping that Changqing would wake up soon, otherwise he would always feel uneasy. Helplessly, his mood was contradictory, and he was really sleepy after several days of hurrying, and after enduring it for a while, he couldn't resist the layers of sleepiness, and he fell asleep unconsciously. Whispering in the dream, a slight snoring sounded from time to time, rendering the whole room with a little smell, just someone sleeping, someone wakes up, Changqing didn't know when to get up from the bed, rolled up a thin quilt and gently put it on Huiyuan's body, he carefully covered it, looked at Huiyuan a few times, blew out the candlelight and walked out of the door. Fortunately, he felt warm, Huiyuan wrapped the quilt tightly, shrunk inside, turned his head and changed his position to sleep, I don't know if he had a dream, he called a few times, the voice was very small, but it was very clear, he called the name of Changqing.

It's just that Changqing didn't have time to hear it, he had already come to the corridor where he passed during the day, and looked at the stone sculpture in the middle of the lake fixedly. His eyes burned, and after hesitating for a moment, he landed on the stone carving, meditated cross-legged, and closed his eyes in a calm manner.

Changqing didn't fall asleep in bed before, and naturally heard the conversation between Zuo Daoke and Huiyuan in the room, because he was in a hazy consciousness, the words he heard were intermittent, but he heard Zuo Daoke's last words very clearly, and he was even more attentive, so that when he woke up, he forgot how he entered the room and how he lay on the bed, but he still couldn't forget his words.

When he was on the mountain, he heard the old man say that someone had watched a sword mark on the cliff, and the legend of the sword mark was an inadvertent stroke when the immortal ascended, and the man woke up and fell asleep, and after watching the sword mark for a full twenty years, he suddenly realized that he became the world's top kendo master. Changqing only thought it was a joke that the old man said when he was bored, and now he heard similar words from the mouth of the left swordsman, and he knew that what the old man actually said was half true and half false.

Even if there are immortals, Changqing doesn't care, what he cares about is how to go to the next level in the way of the sword, not the high he pursues, but the things he carries are really heavy, especially when he goes down the mountain and sees the left swordsman, the fast swordsman and the like, they are all top masters, so that Changqing understands that the gap between himself and them is so big, and as a result, the urgency in his heart has never been so deep as it is now. He had been delaying for ten years, and he didn't want to, and he didn't have the time to afford it, so he decided to give it a try.

On the stone carving, Changqing sat upright for a long time, and his breath slowly began to be disordered, that was his heart was impetuous, he found that he could not perceive the sword intent, his consciousness had swam through the entire stone carving, but he no longer felt the first time that kind of sharp sword qi, as if the sword qi was dead, nowhere to be seen, the harder he worked, the more impatience in his heart increased, and he gave birth to a sense of powerlessness that he couldn't start, but he didn't know that his disordered breath was gradually surging, and there was a vague tendency to go mad.

"Concentrate and breathe. There was a loud sound, like a bell ringing in his ears, which suddenly made Changqing feel cold, and he knew that he had almost committed a taboo, so he hurriedly adjusted his body. Martial arts people, the level of kung fu is secondary, the quality of understanding is also superior, abstaining from impatience is the key, practicing martial arts on the mountain, the old man's most serious, the most solemn expression is when he says these four words, nothing else, just because these four words are too important, important to a person's life, what is more valuable than living? So every time he practiced, the old man always asked him to say it a few times, wishing he had engraved it in his heart, Changqing thought that he had already memorized it, but he didn't expect that such a critical time would almost break a big thing, and he scolded himself while sincerely thanking Zuo Daoke for his reminder.

The voice came from the Left Knifeman.

The left swordsman leaned against the railing and said in his heart: "Then do good things to the end." So he said, "Take the body as a sheath and the qi as a blade." If you are lucky, you will have the sword intent. ”

Hearing this, Changqing shot out a qi, like a river entering the sea, without waves, suddenly, there was a change in the blink of an eye, the surging sword qi churned endlessly, and the murderous aura was awe-inspiring.