Li Qiushuang just raised his right hand, and a sharp wind and frost fell, with an endless sense of slaughter, and the frost rising from the bluestone slab also rose, like a shallow white float. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

Then he withdrew his three fingers, leaving only his index finger and middle finger, facing Jiang He and the young man behind him, the two fingers merged, and the shape was a sword, like an immortal guiding the way, so it was called "immortal sword".

This is Li Qiubai's famous swordsmanship.

The corners of Jiang He's eyes narrowed slightly, and at the same time that Li Hanshuang raised his finger, Jiang He had already raised the broken paper umbrella in his hand, and before he had time to think, a majestic sword intent gushed out from Li Hanshuang's fingertips, and instantly hit Jiang He!

The noisy crowd of onlookers fell silent instantly, they hadn't seen a battle between cultivators for too long, and they felt excited to see such a fierce duel in this place that was neither a jousting ring nor a Qingteng Pavilion. Maybe you can miss the wonderful moment in the blink of an eye, so at this moment, all that is left outside the courtyard wall is the sound of uneven breathing due to excitement.

Everyone thought that Jiang He would lose, and so did the young man standing behind him, he quietly hooked his fingers, pinched a black brush with a pitch-black body between his fingers behind his back, and a dark light like ink surrounded his fingertips, and the brush became a little dull, and the ink light around the tip of the pen beat slightly rhythmically, and a lotus flower composed of ink seemed to bloom at any time.

No one felt this inky light and the faint breath between his brushes, not Jianghe, not Li Qiushuang.

The poor scholar was about to make a move, but the brush had silently poked out of the cuffs, like a poisonous snake spitting a blood-red core, waiting for an opportunity. It was like a cold sword slowly drawn from its scabbard, revealing a cold light. At the moment when the "tip of the sword" was about to come out of its sheath, Jiang He raised his hand, his eyes were clear and focused, and there was a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth, which was full of confidence and an inexplicable joy.

Jiang He took out his sword, the speed was not inferior to the sandstorm in front of him, or even faster, a hazy moonlight rose from his chest, instantly slashed across his cuffs and palms, and fell sharply!

It is still the first form of Haoyue's swordsmanship, like a round of Haoyue suddenly rising in the sky, cutting through the dark night.

The moment the moonlight swept by, the poor scholar quietly withdrew the brush that had slipped out of his cuffs, and all the ink color dissipated. His eyes were still full of that proud look, his hands behind his back, and he still looked so flat in a white robe. But there was a little more appreciation in the depths of his small eyes, and his hair was blown up by the wind.

A newborn bright moon crossed the eternal waterfall that had fallen for thousands of years, and a hazy moonlight hit a snow-white stream.

It was like a snow falling, and countless confetti flew one after another, coming from the broken paper umbrella in Jiang He's hand. It is like thousands of pear blossoms carried by the autumn wind, flying indiscriminately, the world is boundless, and the rivers are standing in the middle, surrounded by these falling "petals", and they can't see the appearance clearly.

No one knew what was going on with Jiang He, and no one believed that he would block this blow, because the difference was too great, a genius apprentice who might have been taught by a master in the Semi-Saint Realm, and an ordinary scholar whose name no one even knew.

There is no shortage of miracles in this world, but few people believe in miracles.

A gust of wind blew from outside the courtyard, with a hint of the summer humid heat, and some of the confetti on the stone slabs were blown up and rolled to the plain blue cloth shoes at the foot of the river.

The pear blossoms dispersed, Jiang He stood, did not fall, the green shirt on his body was torn a few holes, the paper umbrella in his hand was only the poor umbrella bones, there were a few scattered long hairs floating in front of his forehead, and a drop of blood dripped down from his palm, gently smashing on the bluestone slab.

"Tick!"

It was as if all the sounds had died away, except for the faint sound of confetti rolling, and the drop of blood was like a ball of iron, slamming heavily against the stone slab with a loud sound.

Jiang He raised his head and looked at Li Qiushuang in front of him, his eyes were still so clear, more blood droplets were falling down, and the umbrella bone in his hand was dyed red.

"You lost. Jiang He stared at Li Qiushuang and said seriously word by word.

Li Qiushuang retracted her fingers and raised her meticulous eyebrows slightly.

"Uninteresting. Li Qiushuang lowered her head and stroked her somewhat wrinkled sleeves seriously, the needlework was carefully hooked, neatly and tirelessly. He flicked his sleeves, raised his feet and walked past Jiang He, and the young man behind him followed him towards the door.

"You're too weak. Li Qiushuang walked by the side of Jiang He and spoke softly, as if talking to herself.

A scorching ray of sunlight shone through the clouds and above the courtyard gate.

Standing in front of the courtyard gate, the poor scholar took half a step forward and blocked in front of Li Qiushuang, with a smile on his face and his white teeth neatly arranged.

"Li Qiushuang, you lost, apologize to my brother. ”

No one can understand the meaning of these two poor scholars, from the sidelines, no matter how you look at the river, it is a mess, and the bloodstains on the ground are the evidence, dark red and gloomy to announce Li Qiushuang's victory. No one spoke, and they didn't know how to speak, applauding these two powerless poor scholars? He had indeed behaved very well, and he was able to block Li Qiushuang's sword intent, which was already a very commendable thing.

A few people shook their heads, mingling in the crowd and unable to see clearly.

Li Qiushuang frowned, he stared at the poor scholar in front of him, and said coldly: "Get out." ”

The poor scholar grinned, with some cruelty, and he still had his hands behind his back, and his fingers hidden in his sleeves pinched the brush.

"Li Qiushuang, you are a cultivator, but you are so tasteless. He shook his head and continued: "My brother compares sword intent with you, it is a comprehension of the way of the sword, you are defeated, but you dare not admit it. ”

He took another half step forward, calm.

"You don't dare to admit that an unknown scholar has a higher kendo attainment than you. ”

One stone startles a thousand waves.

The people outside the arena talked one after another, the noisy voices came and went, and the poor scholar's words made them have a trace of disbelief, if it was really as she said, it meant that this competition was won by the ordinary scholar who was still bleeding in his hands at the moment?

This scholar who has never even seen a face is even higher than the famous Li Qiushuang in kendo?

The important thing is that in this martial southern country, in this era of open world, if you lose the competition, you will lose, and the loser will also get the highest respect, but if Li Qiushuang does not admit it, then this time the matter will be different.

Li Qiushuang stopped and looked at the poor scholar in front of him, the nobles behind him all looked at him with unkind eyes, and the soldiers who were beaten by the river and lay on the ground also stood up with their hands covered, and drew out the long knives on their waists, and a cold light shone in this hot courtyard.

Li Qiushuang gently brushed the beads of sweat on his forehead, and the weather made him feel even more bored.

"Where do you think you won?"

Listening to his words, the poor scholar smiled slightly, stretched out his right hand behind his back, gestured three fingers, and said, "First, your sword is not as fast as my brother's. ”

He paused and continued: "The moment you took out your sword, my brother's sword intent had already arrived in front of you, so you had to get out of your hand before you could condense the complete sword intent, didn't you?"

Li Qiushuang didn't answer him, still standing indifferently, the poor scholar's words seemed to have nothing to do with him, but the corners of his eyebrows moved slightly, only he could feel it.

"Second, your kendo is too bad, weak and unattained. ”

"Third. ”

Speaking of this, the poor scholar suddenly smiled and turned to face the noisy crowd outside the courtyard. When they watched the poor scholar turn around, they fell silent and waited quietly for him to speak.

"Thirdly, my brother doesn't know how to cultivate at all. ”

Wow!

The crowd exploded into a pot, like a bowl of water poured into a pot of boiling oil soup, stirring up countless boiling sounds.

"A person who has not cultivated the Tao can block a blow from a cultivator with his physical body?!"

"Impossible! Li Qiushuang's cultivation is so high that he will lose to an unknown scholar?"

"Listening to what he said about the Haoyue Sword Technique, is he a disciple of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect?"

。

While the crowd was arguing and fiercely discussing the poor scholar's unbelievable judgment and explanation, a team of ten people quietly walked from the end of the street, all dressed in black shirts, with a sharp arrow feather tattooed on their thick arms, and the pale blue tattoo looked cold and merciless. The leading soldier raised his hand and rudely pushed away the crowd standing in front, and a middle-aged man who was pushed down got up and was about to scold, but the moment he saw the person who came, he choked back the words that were about to blurt out, his face was full of horror, and he hurriedly stood up and leaned towards the side of the street, getting out of the way.

The noisy street fell silent in an instant, and everyone stood aside in silence, for fear of annoying the black-clothed soldiers by making a slight noise. Like a black torrent that broke through the jumble of the crowd, there was only the sound of neat footsteps and the slight sound of the knife hanging from their waist hitting the leg of their trousers.

The men were dressed in black shirts, and wore a dark black helmet made of fine iron, engraved with strange and delicate patterns, which coldly obscured most of the wearer's face, making it difficult to see the appearance. Only the tattoo on the shoulder showed their identity--- the Imperial Forest Army, the most fearsome army in Kyoto City, the sharpest black arrow feather in the south.

The poor scholar turned around when he heard the footsteps, and a show knife with a cold light was instantly placed around his neck, and the cold breath of death was close to his fragile neck, and the soldier clenched the knife expressionlessly, and his rock-steady arm did not tremble at all.

The poor scholar pulled the corners of his mouth nervously, but he didn't dare to move, for fear that his neck would be cut into two pieces by the sharp blade with a careless sneeze.

A knife stood three feet in front of Jiang He's chest.

This is a safe and dangerous distance.