The middle-aged man stopped talking, his fingers stroking to the tip of the soft sword, still.

If a fish stops in the water, who knows where it will go in the next second?

The young man did not dare to blink his eyes, for fear that if he was in a trance, he would lose the opponent in front of him, and the price would be to find that the soft sword had slipped into his neck.

The late learning of the sword and the high level of achievement of this middle-aged scribe are shocking.

This is only the second level under the Sword God Sect.

Young people can't do it.

Just stand still and wait.

Waiting is his first lesson in sword learning.

Only those who are quiet and waiting are worthy of a sword, and only when the time is ripe are they worthy to strike a fatal blow!

The water flashed.

Dangling over the eyes of the middle-aged scribe.

The brain gives the order to strike!

And stopped.

All the changes in the young man were that the muscles of his right hand tightened.

False opportunities are more harmful than no opportunities.

The middle-aged scribe's figure seemed to flicker, and his eyes seemed to be closed, but the soft sword in his hand flashed subtly, casting another wave of light on the young man's eyes.

The young man was fortunate not to move, but for a moment he was completely unable to see.

He stood still, motionless, as if he were a chicken, but he had opened his ears, his nose, and the pores of his body. Even if the opponent moves his little finger, he will catch it keenly.

The young people at this moment are like pitcher plants that stand still and lure the enemy.

It's a pity that middle-aged scribes are not reckless flies.

He didn't move either.

The waves subsided, and the darkness shimmered.

The two returned to their original state of confrontation.

But they have already fought for a round.

No wins, no losses.

The young man suddenly felt that his eyes, which had been shaken earlier, were beginning to sour.

And the wound that was stabbed by the sword boy before was also aching.

It's not a big deal. But little by little, his sharpness and composure were being consumed.

The sparkle of the spring water seemed even more dazzling than before.

The middle-aged scribe sat on the white stone, but it seemed to be one with the mountains and rivers of heaven and earth.

This is not a confrontation, but the enemy is treating me with ease. How can I last long? The young man knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Wait, there is only a dead end.

This thought was born, and there was no longer a state of mind to wait, so I had to take action.

Ren is high-spirited, and it has risen to the highest point in an instant, roar!

Sword out. Like an angry Jiao. Split the spring stream in front of you, practice in a piece, shatter the jade, and shake the dragon!

His sword is on the road of fierceness.

The middle-aged scribe was gone.

In the splash of water split by the young man, it has swam to it.

The body is as fast as a ghost and as slippery as a swimming fish. Soft sword out.

Qiang Qiang Qiang.

Twenty tricks. Forty moves. Hundreds of tricks.

The young man used his sword to split the water, luring the middle-aged scribe to bully him, and when the soft sword came out, his Qin sword had already caught up.

A soft sword is like a snake. The end is demonic, the young man's ancient sword is heavy, and he only uses the tip of the sword to catch the enemy's sword, the sword path is delicate and delicate, and the lightning changes between the square inches, and he fights fast with fast, and suddenly dismantles hundreds of moves.

This style of play, like the quiet of the talents, is a very draining and exhausting way of fighting - for young people.

The middle-aged scribe is like blending into the mountains and rivers, and at this time he is like a fish swimming in the torrent, only jumping away with the sound of the wind and the water, as if he does not need to waste his strength.

There are only warriors in the world who have died without strength, how many have you ever seen a fish that died without strength?

Boom bang

Sweat was already oozing from the young man's forehead.

The hardships of this battle are like judging the castration of one hundred and ten lightning bolts with a flick of the fingers, and the response of each sword must be as precise as the tip of a needle piercing a point of embroidery and tension, otherwise it is death.

However, in ten breaths, the sword of the two is enough to record a thick sword score and recite the rivers and lakes!

These ten breaths are more wonderful than some swordsmen can use in their lifetime.

Even if the young Wei Rusheng is buried here today, he should be proud.

Any swordsman should be proud to have achieved this achievement.

It's just that even if the sword is dense, accurate, beautiful, and ruthless, how can it be able to defeat a middle-aged scribe like a soft sword in the realm of Zhenhua.

The sword was soft and soft, like a fishtail, only sticky at the tip of the Qin sword, gently swinging half an inch, the young man hurriedly returned to the side of the sword, and the swimming fish sword turned with the person, and it had already swept behind the back, and the fishtail threw up a sword flower, and the young man hurriedly hit it with the tip of the sword, but it was half a minute slower, and the sword flower opened a blood flower on the young man's arm. The young man's expression was like iron, and he struck down with his elbow, but the swimming fish sword trembled slightly, bounced away like a meteor, and drew a strong arc, hitting the weak part of the young man's sword, and then opened the Qin sword, and the arc slashed directly at the young man's chest!

The young man hurriedly stepped back, bent his waist, and returned his sword to block, and the arc was already in his chest!

was blocked by Qin Jian, and he didn't resist, and with a light kiss on his chest, he flicked his tail and retreated, and a blood line stuck to the tip of the arc.

The young man had a deep wound on his chest!

He was half bloodied.

But his back was still straight.

He has to stand up straight, he's a swordsman.

The good swimmer drowns, the good rider falls, and the swordsman deserves to die by the sword.

Have young people seen their own death?

His sword became impatient, and his sword style opened and closed wider, as if he had given up his original meticulous way, and began to smash it like a suitable person to deal with a sword boy.

It's a pity that the middle-aged scribe is not a sword boy.

The young man slashed hard, the middle-aged scribe slid and gave way, the swimming fish sword was soft and greasy, and the young man's sword shook outward, blocking the belt to attack, but was shocked by the potential of the swimming fish sword, and a gap was revealed between the elbows; The swimming fish sword lightly faded back and threw directly into this gap.

What a gap!

The young man's eyes widened and he shouted, "Roar! ”

His right arm clamped the soft sword fiercely on his body and trapped it, Qin Jian threw his left hand, swept away the impatience when he had lured the enemy, and drew a strong arc.

"The wind is blowing and the clouds are flying".

It throws away life and death, and never goes to the former, which is the sword momentum; Its flying and vigorous and mellow is a sword style; Those who do it in one go and draw the finishing point without leaving a trace are sword intent.

The sword momentum, sword style, and sword intent are all as good as this. This sword shatters the spit pot!

The tip of the sword pierced into the left shoulder socket of the middle-aged scribe, downward, into the heart, and through the right rib.

The blood was stunned for a moment, and it rushed out like dazzling fireworks.

A perfect sword must drink perfect blood to achieve its might.

There was an apology on the young man's face.

If given the choice, he wouldn't be so willing to kill.

He's a swordsman, not a killer.

But kendo has reached a point. Only kill. to be finished.

Only death is the destination of a sword.

The middle-aged scribe could barely open his eyes, but there was a smile on the corner of his mouth, and he whispered out the last eight words:

"Serve the sword with orders. What a pity to die. ”

The young man was awe-struck.

The apology was gone.

Only respect.

Slowly let go and step back. A deep blood groove cut by Ren's soft sword between the ribs began to spurt blood. Only solemn and arched:

"Wei Rusheng, the swordsman under the door of Zhishui Villa, is entrusted to Mr. Yu, and Mr. Xie will teach you!"

The middle-aged scribe slowly fell.

Some fell. Taller than some of the people standing.

The young man is on the road again, and although he has stopped the bleeding at the acupoint, he has been greatly injured, but his waist is still very straight, and his eyes are still very bright.

Some people can die, they can fall, but they will never extinguish the light in their eyes.

He walked on the left side.

I didn't even glance at the one on the right.

Don't even think about it: why are there two paths? Where does that path lead and what happens?

As long as he chooses a path, he won't look at anything else.

He believes that people only have one life, and they can only concentrate on one path.

There are only three levels on this road.

The road of the sword god, the three levels of life and death.

The second has passed.

The young man turned another corner.

The mountain road goes straight up, splits a huge mountain stone, forms the "line of sky" two zhang away, this "line of sky" rubs the mountain wall through the shoulder, the eyes suddenly open up, only to see the main peak has been in front of you, a few strange pines on it, born very domineering, piercing the sky straight between the chaotic rocks, especially Qingqi. The pine majestically holds out a stone palace, which is purely made of mountain rocks, and there is no carving, but the power of the king is complete.

The young man walked up in a heavy stride.

The clouds were all under his feet, and the peaks stretched out continuously, but he could no longer see.

He only saw a palace, a monument, and a person.

The palace is actually not a palace, but a huge stone door split out of the mountain stone, people need to hold their breath to look up to see the top of the door, and a few skyscraper stone pillars behind the door, a stone bed, that's all, but it makes people feel that only the emperor of the emperor is worthy of living here, pillow stone curtain sky, sweeping clouds and fog.

In fact, the stele is not a stele, but a rock face on the edge of the peak and cliff facing the bottomless mountain stream, which is flattened, and a few big characters are hastily said on it: "If the old man dies, when the bones are thrown in this stream, the mountain is the mausoleum, the rock is the knowledge, and the mountain pine is the sealed soil, and the long howl can also be mourned." ”

What a spirit!

A sword next to the monument, a man.

A sword of swords, the emperor of kings.

The Emperor of Swords and his Imperial Sword.

In the third level of the Sword God Road, the person who guards it is actually the Sword Emperor!

The Sword Emperor, who retired at about the same time as the Sword God twenty years ago, turned out to be guarding the Sword God here.

Who but he is worthy to guard here? Except for the Sword God, who deserves to let him guard the pass!

The young man kept his mouth shut.

Can't move.

The sword qi of the Sword Emperor has come to his face.

That is the "emperor's breath", the king of the world, so that everyone who sees it can't help but want to prostrate and worship, it seems invisible, but powerful and irresistible!

And young people cannot bend their knees.

A swordsman cannot bend his knees in front of any force!

Therefore, Jing Ke can talk and laugh freely in front of Emperor Qin, while Qin Wuyang, who kills people in the city at a young age, can only sweat like a pulp. The former is a swordsman through the ages, and the latter is just a butcher.

When the "sword" reaches a certain level, it transcends life and death, and even surpasses "martial arts", and becomes a kind of "Tao".

Sword, Dao!

The young man stood still.

The sword cannot be broken. He can't bend!

A hint of appreciation flashed in the Sword Emperor's eyes.

Xu Xu said:

"Who's coming?"

The young man kept his mouth shut.

It's not that you don't want to answer, but you can't.

Although the voice of the Sword Emperor was slow, it was like a tsunami and landslide. A sea is slowly pushing, a mountain is slowly falling, who can resist this calm and huge force?

The young man only feels that he is as small as a speck of dust, in the face of such a huge pressure, it is not easy to maintain a little clarity in his heart, he is only afraid that if he opens his mouth, he will not even be able to hold back this bit of clarity and righteousness, and his knees may be soft.

Who can endure and not bow to the highest authority? Who can hold back and not bow to the pressure of the country; Who can stand up to their backs in the unsupported tide of fate?

What a strong backbone it takes!

- There is only one kind of person who does not need to have a strong backbone to be able to face the Sword Emperor. (To be continued......)