This rotten feudal society is so hateful that it wants to kill people because of a small misunderstanding?

Fang Hao naturally refused to suffer, he held back his rapid panting, and ran wildly, this time, he ran directly for several miles, plunged into the ruined temple where he lived, and fell on the pile of black rotten cotton wool, and the leaves of his lungs were about to explode.

The good news is that I can't hear anyone chasing after me anymore.

This is a long-abandoned land temple, because it is unattended, the valuable things in the temple have long been looted, and only a few dilapidated houses are left, barely able to shelter Fang Hao, a homeless Huazi.

His biggest problem at the moment is that the shell he got is too weak, so weak that a gust of wind can blow him to walk crookedly, otherwise he would not have let him, the Asian boxing champion of the year, be bullied and powerless to resist.

Therefore, Fang Hao's greatest wish at present is to make this weak body stronger as soon as possible, otherwise he is really afraid that one day if he is not careful, he will die on the street and become a starving corpse.

He believes that as long as his body and bones are restored to half of what they used to be, even if it is a small half, he will no longer be troubled by filling his stomach with three meals a day, even if he goes to the dock outside the east gate to carry a big bag, he can earn some money and food every day, and when he has some savings, there are too many ways to choose from next.

Although this world is not the Song Dynasty recorded in history, the customs, behavior, and cultural inheritance are all the same, after all, as a modern person who has traveled through time, he still has too much insight and skills that can gain a foothold in this era.

After resting for a long time, he recovered, slowly got up and walked outside the temple.

Outside the temple, there was a broken sandbag hanging from the branch of the crooked-necked old locust tree, Fang Hao moved his body a little, and began to hit repeatedly around the sandbag, thirty or fifty times with all his strength, the fist wrapped in rags began to hurt unbearably, and the slightest blood stain seeped out from the rags, and countless faint blood marks were printed on the sandbags.

Three hundred, no matter what, three hundred punching bags a day, what is the pain? No matter how great the physical pain is, can it be compared to the great fear and sadness of the mind? Home, may never go back.

After three hundred beatings, he untied the bloodstained rags wrapped around his hands, took them to the well behind the temple and cleaned them along with the wounds on his hands, and pulled out two small sandbags under the rotten cotton wool where he was sleeping, tied them tightly to his calves, stretched his limbs, and began to run around the small temple in circles.

No matter how tired and hungry he was every night, he had to run 50 laps around the small temple with sandbags, and he measured it with his pace, and the 50 laps were about 5,000 meters.

By the time he had finished fifty laps, he was out of breath from exhaustion, panting rapidly as if he was about to tear his lungs, his chest aching unbearably, and his legs were almost unconscious.

Even at this bottom, tonight's homework was still not done, he struggled to fetch well water to wash his body, and then stretched out his whole body and lay on the flattened rotten cotton wool, rested for a while, and his limbs began to slowly twist, changing into strange movements.

This is a set of yoga techniques that his teacher gave him when he was learning free fighting, which he learned from an Indian dervishesh, which can relax his body, mind and spirit to the maximum, and exercise the flexibility and flexibility of the body to the extreme.

This set of ancient Indian yoga is also his secret weapon to become the Asian boxing champion in five years.

After the whole movement was completed, he crossed his knees, folded his hands to cover his lower abdomen, looked at his nose, nose and heart, and closed his eyes slightly, and began the most core practice in this set of yoga, meditation.

Meditation is similar to the meditation of Buddhism, and it is the most mysterious inheritance of ancient Indian yoga, which is through the struggle with the depths of one's soul and suppressing it, so as to enter the realm of selflessness, to feel the width of heaven and earth, and the wonder of life.

It is said that the meditation technique is cultivated to the extreme, and it can be realized as well as the meditation technique, Fang Hao's cultivation of meditation is of course not for the purpose of ethereal enlightenment, but after this meditation technique is cultivated to a certain extent, it can fully relax the body and mind and rejuvenate the tired body, which is also the key to his ability to quickly recover his physical strength when he learns free fighting, the training intensity is more than twice that of others.

The night is getting deeper, Fang Hao, who is sitting cross-legged on the rotten cotton wool, has a calm and peaceful face, his breathing is subtle and long, he has already entered the realm of forgetting things and me, and the night wind blows in from the cracks in the broken temple gate, driving the wisps of rotten straw on the ground, slowly turning in the temple.

Unconsciously, Fang Hao unconsciously sniffed his nostrils, and a slight smile appeared on his face, as if he had entered a sweet dream, in the dream, he returned to his familiar hometown, his parents, relatives, and the lovely and hateful Lin Xiaojie, slowly surrounded him, as if to listen to him slowly narrate the magical encounter during this time.

Lin Xiaojie was so close, so close that she was about to snuggle into her arms, her good-looking big eyes looked at her face stupidly, and the faint, sweet fragrance on her body drilled into her nostrils, it smelled so good.

After being intoxicated for a while, a trace of alertness suddenly flashed through the depths of Fang Hao's brain, his mind had not yet turned back from the dream, his body had already reacted, he opened his eyes brushed the ground, a pair of big round eyes as black as paint stared at him closely, under the shadow of a jumping torch, his face was clearly reflected on the pupils of those eyes.

"Run, you run again, call Hanako dead." The young man who had been spit out by him in the afternoon was angry in his eyes and sneered viciously.

"Ah......" This time it was Fang Hao screaming, and the scream pierced the silent night.

Fang Hao was halfway through the shout, only a loud tom was heard in his ears, the temple door was slammed open, and two swishing sounds swept through, and the two short swords flashed cold light against his left and right ribs.

At the same time, there was a chill between his eyebrows, and there was a tingling pain, and the big-eyed boy who was staring at him had already drawn a short blade, the tip of which was against the center of his eyebrows.

Fang Hao couldn't even turn his head, only to hear an angry shout sounding beside him: "Stinky Huazi, dare to be rude to Gongzi, I will kill you." ”

With this voice, the tip of the sword against his left rib was sent forward, and he was about to pierce himself through the cold.

"Qiu Yue, stop, stand down." The big-eyed boy spoke, his voice delicate and majestic, making it impossible to raise the slightest hint of resistance.

"Yes." The two short swords were withdrawn at the same time, and two curvaceous scholars stood behind the big-eyed boy.

With a long sigh of relief, Fang Hao calmed down and saw the big eyes in front of him clearly, and when he got closer, he could see clearly, the torch in the young man's hand was burning, and even the fine holes in the earlobes of his ears were clearly recognizable.

Look at the young man's throat again, it is delicate, white and slender, even the slightest raised Adam's apple can't be seen.

Looking down further, although he was wearing a man's robe, he still couldn't hide the two slight bulges.

Looking back at the young man's face a few more times, the pink and crystal cheeks are round and bulging, the forehead is a layer of fine to almost transparent hair, and the delicate and slender eyebrows are mixed with the sweet fragrance.

No matter how stupid Fang Hao is, it is impossible not to recognize it, this is a woman, no, a girl, a girl who is seventeen or eighteen years old at most.

Thinking about it again, her eyes glanced at the two scholars behind her, hey, these are also two little girls, fifteen or sixteen years old at most.

The big-eyed boy, no, the big-eyed girl didn't notice that Fang Hao had seen through her line, and she wrinkled her little nose, pretending to be fierce, and said with a smile in a tone that she thought was very sinister: "Little beggar, I'll kill you now, are you afraid?" ”