On the tree-lined path, Zhao Shuang took a puff fan and rested under the tree.

There was a small stall on the side of the road with tea.

During the war, the villagers of Zhaojia Village served as mercenaries and accepted tasks from various countries. In normal times, I occasionally do some cutting things to earn some gray income.

In the eyes of the Zhao family, the young Zhao Shuang is just a mediocre-looking little fat man, because he has a good relationship with the leader, he usually doesn't work hard when he goes out on a task.

"Why did the patriarch let us set up a stall here, and this is not a trade route?"

"Look at this roadside, there is not even a human figure."

A few villagers from Zhaojia Village were chatting while placing their goods.

It's not like they've done this kind of thing once or twice.

After the Qin State captured Yingdu, Nanyang County was calm for a long time. As mercenaries, they were able to farm to meet their food needs, but they still needed to trade goods to supplement their armor.

Cutting the path is a technical job, not to mention that Zhao Laosi is a bandit with ideals.

Those who are too fat do not dare to eat it, because it is likely to be the subordinates of some nobles, and it will not be good if it attracts revenge; Those who are too thin cannot eat, because they seek wealth, not life.

Several villagers present were very clever, sorted out the ingredients and started cooking.

"Zhao Shuang, if you lack firewood, we will burn these rags of yours."

"Burn, burn, burn!"

Zhao Shuang didn't care at all.

The villagers of Zhaojia Village rarely read and practiced calligraphy, and most of them only knew the terms used when marching and fighting.

Zhao Shuang is an exception, Zhao Laosi has taught him to read and write since he was a child. Items such as bamboo slips, which are not used by ordinary people, but are relatively expensive, are also provided to him in unlimited quantities.

Zhao Shuang had nothing to do, so he wrote poems for later generations. He once wanted to write a novel, but considering the audience and length, forget it!

After all, the articles of this era are mainly based on the essence. There are hundreds of schools of thought, and there are brilliant masterpieces of each faction, many of which are thousands of words, and few of which are thousands of words.

Writing novels in this era can definitely be a loss to grandma's family.

Zhao Shuang was a little strange, why his bamboo slips were also mixed in the miscellaneous items and brought out. But he didn't care, after all, he himself littered the ragged pieces.

At three poles in the morning, a burst of fragrance came from the steamer. The broth was boiling in the stove, and it was gurgling and bubbling.

Finally, the stall welcomed its first customer.

The person who came was refreshed and handsome, dressed in clothes, very extraordinary, and undoubtedly fat in the eyes of the villagers of the Zhao family.

Xun also seems a little strange, why is there such a stall on this barren mountain road?

His eyes flickered, and he soon noticed Zhao Shuang who was sleeping.

"He is young, but his cultivation is profound. I don't seem to have seen this exercise. ”

Xun Kuang muttered, and the villagers of Zhaojia Village had already come to greet him.

Xun sat down, looked at the room, but saw the bamboo slips that had not been burned by the stove.

"Guest officer, it's hard to travel, take a sip of tea."

This tea has not yet been eaten, but Xun is already a little clear.

"Little brother, you see what is valuable on the old man. If you want, I can give it, there is no need to use such means. ”

After speaking, Xun Guo threw the tea in the teacup, a little regretful.

"It's a pity for this tea."

"Not good, hard stubble."

Just when the villagers of Zhaojia Village were tense, Xun Kuang stretched out his hand, put his five fingers together, and the piece of bamboo scattered next to the stove came to his hand.

"Separate... Teleportation. ”

The villagers of Zhaojia Village looked at this scene and were horrified. Could this person be the legendary peerless master?

All the attention of Xun Guo is on this bamboo slip.

"Fifteen from the army, eighty years to return. Daofeng villagers: Who is there a ....... at home"

Xun Jing faced the sword, but he didn't realize it, but asked kindly.

"I wonder who wrote this poem?"

It's a weird picture.

More than a dozen people were armed with swords and faced an unarmed man. However, the offensive and defensive trends are completely different.

Zhao Shuang was sleeping, and he woke up when he smelled the fragrance, and he saw this scene.

"What's the matter, the work hasn't been done yet?"

Zhao Shuang didn't care at all, and ate a steamed bun with it.

"Little brother, you wrote this poem."

"Sort of!"

Anyway, there is no such thing as intellectual property rights in this era, and Zhao Shuang shamelessly admitted it.

"At such a young age, but with such a compassionate heart, why are you a bandit?"

Xun is a little curious, this little fat man is the youngest, about ten years old, but among these people, he has a special status.

"For the money, of course."

Xun Kuang didn't expect that he got such an answer, and he was a little helpless.

"What's the name of the little brother?"

"Zhao Shuang."

"Zhao?"

Xun seemed to have some understanding and asked.

"I'm going to go to the Ghost Valley, to the invitation of the old man, is the little brother willing to go along?"

Before Zhao Shuang could give an answer, Xun Jing pulled Zhao Shuang's shoulder, and in a few moments, he disappeared in front of everyone's eyes, leaving behind the Zhao family villagers with a confused face.

In the mountains and forests, Zhao Laosi looked at this scene and smiled slightly.

"A gentleman can be bullied. Xun situation, you still can't let go of this love for talent after all! ”

.......

A mountain hut, under the eaves, cobwebs are weaving, and a huge spider is on it, waiting for its prey.

Hundreds of swordsmen marched through the mountains and forests and surrounded the hut.

Eight first-class swordsmen have almost reached the most elite power of Luowang, and they came to this nameless place for the most important traitor in the history of Luowang.

The door opened, and the bloodthirsty swordsman had a look of disappointment on his face.

For more than 100 years, few people have been able to make the net fall out. Only at this moment, their target was sitting cross-legged on the ground, breathless.

Obviously, there is not much left to live.

"Occult senior!"

The previous Lord of the Hidden Sun Sword had been on the run for many years after defecting. Except for the days spent in Zhaojia Village, the rest of the time was in this barren mountain.

It wasn't until a while ago that Luo Wang got his word for it.

"I haven't used the name Occultation for a long time, and I don't need it anymore."

These swordsmen have been roaming for many years and have killed countless powerful enemies. But a person who is about to die, it makes no difference whether he kills or not.

"Don't you think it's a pity to abandon this sword?"

"I'm the strongest sword, what's the pity?"

The old swordsman exuded a powerful momentum, which made the hearts of these swordsmen who had experienced bloody killings feel terrified.

Even, someone couldn't help but draw his sword.

This in itself is an act of weakness.

It is these top killers on the rivers and lakes who can feel the power of the old man, but they can't understand the meaning of his words.

"We came, in addition to asking for your life, we also want to know where the "Lingzhang Sword Technique" is?"

"It already has a successor!"

"Who is it?"

"You'll meet sooner or later."

The corners of the old swordsman's mouth curled slightly, and his words seemed to indicate something, and he slowly closed his eyes.

I don't know why, the moment he closed his eyes, all the top swordsmen in this world present breathed a sigh of relief in their hearts.