Bitter or not, Zhao Qianjia really didn't know what to say.

The mountains of corpses and bones, and the rivers of Wushui, are the hatred of the man's burial country.

The hanging black hole eyes, the resolute eyes with tears, are the revenge of the man's deceased wife.

Family hatred and national hatred are so unforgettable that they are deeply imprinted in the soul by the existence of the heavens and the earth, and it has become an obsession.

Even if the Tao dissipates, even if the body decays, even if the mind is lost, his will must remember these things and do something for them.

How can people treat him for themselves?

So Zhao Qianjia simply didn't spend it.

Even if there is really reincarnation and impermanence, or if he is reincarnated as a politician, it does not mean that he has to resolve such an obsession. If you don't resolve it, you don't need to contend with it, let alone be assimilated by it, and let resentment and guilt erode you.

In the hazy world, his perspective began to change, and he was originally at the level of the black hole, looking down on the dead and empty world, which was a kind of lonely and high.

Now he looked directly at the black hole, allowing his spirit and mind to be swallowed by it, but his unyielding will ignited his own fire, shining and never withering.

The tearful eyes appeared again, making Zhao Qianjia suffocate slightly.

His heart was filled with grief again, and a blood-stained wooden sword flew suddenly, vibrating strongly until it cracked itself, and the fine sawdust condensed towards Zhao Qianjia's perspective, and he seemed to have a body, and he jumped hard and threw himself into the black hole.

Dark and invisible.

Light and not blind.

Silence, inaudible.

It's noisy, it's not to be silenced.

Everything has its own rules, and around him, there are years and time flowing by, and many people and things appear in front of his eyes.

In fact, time and time are not the same thing, time is the orbit of the universe, and time is the evidence of the existence of heaven and earth, the former is knowable and irreversible, and the latter is indefinite.

There is no definite number of years, but it is true freedom.

Zhao Qianjia's body appeared next to the riverbed where the years and time flowed, naked, and did not stir up dust.

At the same time, in the secret room of the Wudang stone bed, Zhang Zhidong, who was pacing sadly, suddenly turned around, only to see Zhao Qianjia lying on the stone bed, the clothes on his body were broken inch by inch and turned into flying ashes, and the naked body was full of treasure, accompanied by a strange celestial sound.

"Oh no! stop him!" the old man's phantom hurriedly shouted, "He's too fast, too fast!"

Zhang Zhidong reacted quickly, and his strong cultivation immediately erupted, and a mysterious beam of light shone out from the center of his eyebrows, covering Zhao Qianjia.

The treasure light converged, the sound of the sky faded, and the pieces of fly ash re-condensed into clothing and put on the original parts.

Zhao Qianjia woke up slowly, opened his eyes, and the stars in his eyes were spinning, the grass and trees were breaking the ground, and a divine light more than a foot high bloomed, which lasted for three breaths.

The divine light dissipated, his mind was muddy, the corpse mountain Wuhe, the black hole with tears in his eyes, and the long river of years and time, shuttled through his memory like a marquee.

After a while, Zhao Qianjia regained his senses, looked around, and saw the Wudang Guan Master who was staggering down, and the old man's phantom was long gone.

He was shocked, immediately jumped off the stone bed, came to Zhang Zhidong's side, stretched out his hand to help him, and said, "Senior, who are you?"

"It's okay, it's too much, just take a break. The viewer said calmly.

Zhao Qianjia looked at him worriedly, and didn't say much, and suddenly remembered that he should be in the branch of the Forbidden Immortal League in Ningcheng, so he asked, "Is this Wudang, how can I be here?"

Zhang Zhidong pointed to another stone bench, motioned for him to sit down, and said, "I picked you up." ”

"You just woke up, but what's wrong?" asked the viewer again.

"There was nothing uncomfortable, it was like having a strange dream, and there was something unfinished in the dream, which was a pity. ”

Zhang Zhidong nodded, pointed behind him, and said, "Your wooden sword has been damaged, I'll give you one when you go back, you should be fearless of the sword weapon now." ”

Zhao Qianjia was taken aback, only then did he find that the wooden sword that had been carrying behind him had disappeared, recalling the scene when the wooden sword turned into ashes in his dream, he couldn't help but wonder a little, was it reality or a dream?

The Guan Zhu was not ready to answer his question, and after a short rest, he got up and led Zhao Qianjia out of the secret room.

The sword hall is the place where Wudang raises swords, where there are boundless squares, sword qi is vertical and horizontal, and an ancient sword is conceived.

Most of the so-called famous swords in the outside world are cast by swordsmiths, but they don't know that every time these people create a good sword, Wudang Sword Hall will have one less ancient sword. And if there is anyone in the world who breeds a good sword by himself, then Wudang Sword Hall will also have an extra ancient sword.

For thousands of years, they have been going back and forth, coming and going, and this has always been the home of the ancient sword.

The Guan Zhu led Zhao Qianjia to walk on foot, and the ancient sword here did not hurt people. Most of them are as curious and naughty as Mengtong, occasionally circling and dancing like playful, and the sword body trembles like a chuckle, and some are quiet, like a calm old man who sees through the world, unmoving.

"There's a sword here, it's for you. "Contemplating the Lord's Way.

Zhao Qianjia was very surprised, but at the same time puzzled, and asked, "Prepared for me?"

"Yes, it's special. The viewer didn't say more, Zhao Qianjia knew that he didn't like to talk, so he didn't ask more, just followed honestly.

The two of them walked for about ten minutes and came to an area where the Sword Mountain towered. Almost all the ancient swords here are inserted into the ground, and occasionally there is a sound of breaking the air, and if you look closely, it is some ancient swords that levitate and fly towards the sword mountain.

These ancient swords that rush towards the Sword Mountain often encounter twists and turns, either they can't find a place to stay on the Sword Mountain and are gloomy back to the ground, or they are knocked sideways by other ancient swords, making sparks fly, only those with strong enough stamina and sharp enough blades have the ability to go against the mountain.

"This is the self-cultivation of the ancient sword, from the ground to the foot of the mountain, to the mountainside, to the shattered void at the top of the mountain, every step needs to be sublimated, only in this way can they become those good swords that are full of spirituality outside. The viewer explained to Zhao Qianjia.

I see, this should be the starting place of all ancient swords, Zhao Qianjia thought.

"The sword I gave you is in the deepest part of this sword mountain. The viewer's tone was flat, as if it wasn't a serious matter at all.

Zhao Qianjia nodded habitually, and then came back to his senses, the sword in the deepest part of the Sword Mountain had to run to the ground, pass through the foot of the mountain, and then go to the top of the mountain, wouldn't it have to resist the pressure brought by the entire Sword Mountain?

This is... The worst sword in qualification!

He laughed and wept and looked at the Lord, hoping that he would give some instructions.

However, the viewer still cherished the words like gold, and did not say anything more, which made Zhao Qianjia's wishful thinking sound.

There is no way, he has come, he can't enter Baoshan empty-handed, no matter how bad his qualifications are, it is still a sword, and for him, a person who has nothing to do with the sword, it is already very exciting.

Stepping into the Sword Mountain, there is a sword gate, and countless sword blades are guarded, allowing one person to enter.

He stood in front of the sword gate, looked back, and the viewer nodded at him.

No longer hesitate to enter the Sword Gate. It was desolate, with broken swords and broken swords everywhere, and some unedged sword bars standing upright on the ground, dim, and not even the hilt of the sword was formed.

Which sword is it?