At four o'clock, the moon is bright and the stars are scarce.

Sitting up from the bed, Du Chengfeng, who had slept all day, was already full of energy, but he didn't get up in a hurry, but recalled what he saw when he sharpened his sword before.

It's not those sword moves that have been polished to the extreme by Cui Yuan, but Cui Yuan's actions themselves.

Who Cui Yuan's teacher is, Du Chengfeng doesn't know, but that person's education method of Cui Yuan, Du Chengfeng thinks it is very interesting - after all, for any ordinary person, after the teacher leaves, there is no one to supervise, and he will soon slack off in learning, but Cui Yuan is completely different, the huge training of three thousand swords a day, but he can persist for fifteen years, and the perseverance shown in it is indeed admirable.

This is not just practicing swords, it is simply practicing yourself as a sword.

"That's right! That's it! ”

In a blink of an eye, Du Chengfeng seized this fleeting inspiration.

That's it, the inspiration during the day is this, although Du Chengfeng doesn't know how to practice martial arts, he knows how to sharpen a knife - in other words, if the blade is pushed on the stone again and again, it is regarded as sharpening the blade......

The act of swinging three thousand swords every day can also be seen as polishing oneself?

Is it to polish the body? Or polish the will? Du Chengfeng can't tell the difference for the time being, or both.

But none of that matters.

Importantly, this inspiration opened the door to a new world for Du Chengfeng's thinking.

"Since knives can be sharpened, can people sharpen them?"

Thinking like this, Du Chengfeng turned over and got out of bed and picked up the thick knife.

Under the moonlight, Du Chengfeng raised the big knife high, and then slashed it.

This is not even a move, it is just a hard chop, and the original owner of this knife, Yang Fatzi, chopped off an unknown number of pig's heads with one knife at a time.

"He's made mistakes, too."

While waving the knife, Du Chengfeng remembered the big face of Yang Fatzi.

Although this big knife was first met with Yang Fatzi, Yang Fatzi was already able to cut off the pig's head with one knife, but before this, Yang Fatzi must have also experienced some hard work.

Mistake after mistake, adjustment after adjustment.

Again and again, I memorized the position of the bone seam, and corrected the feeling of the hand again and again.

What's right? Yang Fatzi may have been confused, just like Cui Yuan, who swings three thousand swords every day, are the three thousand swords right?

No, I have missed it, and I have been confused, after all, although the sword moves are just that, whether I can do it or not is still two different things. But it is precisely because of this polishing and correction again and again that those rough edges and blunt mouths will become sharper, and those basic sword moves will become sharp and enough to kill.

Just like after Yang Fatzi got this big knife.

With a swing of the knife, the pig's head fell in response.

The blade of the knife travels between the cracks of the bone, neither cutting nor cutting.

"Hoo ......"

Exhaling a breath of turbidity, the heavy blade swam across the wooden table beside him.

At this moment, Du Chengfeng completed the first polishing of himself.

Putting away the big knife, Du Chengfeng turned around, and his footsteps sounded softly.

And the half-cut wooden table behind him also slipped to the ground silently.

There was a muffled sound.

Following the glimmer of inspiration he had just grasped, Du Chengfeng kept walking and came all the way to the warehouse.

This is the place where a large number of blades are stored, some of them are the scimitars used by the Hu people, and the other part is the bone war hammer commonly used by the steppe people—it is said to be a war hammer, but the essence is only a cast iron spike strike head attached to a wooden stick, and some are not particular about even using bones.

Once upon a time, Du Chengfeng didn't know how to polish these bones, after all, these things have no sharp and no blades, just an iron head, and if you want to touch them with a whetstone, you can't deal with them at all.

But now that he thinks about it, is it really a whetstone that he needs?

Just like when he was polishing his body just now, does he really want to rub a whetstone against his body?

No, apparently not.

When he wielded the broadsword, the broadsword, the one that solved the pig, was the whetstone that polished him.

So, if you want to polish, do you have to use stones?

"Maybe you can try this."

Thinking like this, Du Chengfeng found a piece of deer skin and came out.

The soft deerskin is often used to wipe the blade, and now, Du Chengfeng squatted down and used this deerskin to gently wipe the blood on the war hammer in his hand, feeling every line on the war hammer, every bumping, every crack or light or dark.

Every crack is the pattern of the story.

With the process of wiping, Du Chengfeng seemed to see the life of a grassland warrior.

The poor steppe man could not afford to buy a sword that required a lot of iron, so he had to buy some iron and put it on a wooden stick to make this cheapest weapon of all—but even the most crude weapon was enough to break bones and skulls, and enough for him to follow the leaders on his expeditions to the east and west, to save some money for himself.

However, just when the steppe warrior participated in several raids and finally could afford a sword, he found that he had long been accustomed to the bones in his hands.

The sharp blade only needs a few bumps to wear off, but the hard bone will still be the same no matter how many times it is smashed. A cheap war hammer that can be found everywhere is like the life of every steppe warrior, who can grow up in the cold wind has long been not afraid of any grind, just because those cowards have died in the wind.

So those who survived were only strong.

"We deserve it all!"

In the camp full of steppe warriors, they raised their arms and shouted.

"We deserve it all!"

At the front of the crowd, the man named Su Xiqing was also shouting loudly.

"Why do we have to suffer! Why do we have to be frozen! Why do our old people and children die in the cold wind! Why disaster always befalls us! Why! ”

"We're going to eat food too! We're going to live in a big house too! We want warm land too! We have to live too! ”

"We want to live too!"

The grassland warriors looked at the man named Su Xiqing, and their eyes were full of fanaticism.

It was at this time that the man named Su Xiqing pressed down his arm.

"Bring your weapons and practice your skills."

"What the heavens don't give us, we'll take it ourselves."

With this order, the grassland warriors walked to their formations, and they would drive south one by one, to the place where the weak Chen people lived, and use the swords in their hands to get everything they wanted from the cowardly Chen people.

As the original owner of this war hammer, that grassland warrior was incorporated into Su Xixuan's team, this grassland warrior was quite excited, he knew that Su Xixuan was Su Xiqing's younger brother, and being able to train in this team meant that he was likely to be selected into Su Xiqing's personal guard army and become an eagle soaring under the blue sky.

But what this grassland warrior didn't expect was that Su Xixuan, a man as strong as a snow bear, would actually be beheaded in front of someone.

Immediately afterwards, Du Chengfeng saw his face in this memory.