Bang bang Ning Que dragged his clothes upstairs and wiped his face with his sleeve. He respectfully saluted the gentle female professor by the east window, and then walked quickly to the bookshelf and picked out a thin sea of qi snow mountains for primary exploration. He quickly opened it and pulled out the dense paper. He restrained his excitement, read it again, and fell into a long silence.

"Our body is like a musical instrument, just as the breath comes and goes through a vertical bamboo flute, and so does the mental power that comes through the body. A good piece of music may not be played with just a flute and reiki, because the sound always comes out of the hole of the vertical bamboo flute.

"If you don't have a hole in your flute, how can you blow it? If heaven and earth can't hear your music, how can you interact with it? "What would you do if most of your acupuncture points in the Snow Mountain and Qi Sea were blocked?"

Ning Que looked at the person's information and raised his head after a while. He shook his head and stared at the dense forest with a smile, listening to the cicadas chirping outside his window. With a very slight gesture, he said, "So, that's the truth." So... I'm a bamboo flute that I can't play.

Then he looked down at his chest and abdomen, and then his gaze fell on his green academy uniform. He imagined the unknown specific appearance of the sea of qi snow mountains and sea in the flesh and blood covered by his clothes. It was as if he saw many flat paths without holes and clumsy rocky mountains, and no matter how the water beat and how the lake breeze blew, no sound could be made.

"Ah, the person who can write such words is really a genius!" He couldn't help but look at the handwriting on the paper again, and his heart fluttered, "Use the example of a woman to represent the theory of forgetting the meaning of reading, and even after that, come up with the wonderful metaphor of the vertical bamboo flute, that guy must be, if he is a lecturer, the top lecturer of the academy."

Out of admiration, Ning Que couldn't help but fall into sadness, he thought about the lakeside stone and the silent mountain without acupuncture points, and on the other hand, he thought about the dumb wood that could not be played without any holes in his body. Then he sighed, put "A Preliminary Exploration of the Qixue Mountain and Ocean" back on the shelf, and continued to walk around the shelf.

Knowing the relationship between natural qi, spiritual power, and breath, and also realizing the limitations of his innate physique, Ning Que understood that although he could take a look at that world and fulfill his wish in some stupid way, he couldn't actually step into that world. Therefore, he felt that it made no sense to continue reading by observing the characters and forgetting the meaning, because for him it was far more important to enter that world than to glimpse it.

In order not to disturb the female professor who was quietly describing words in front of the east window, he walked up and down the bookshelves, deliberately slowing down and relaxing. His face looked calm, or in other words, seemed calm. His calm face looked at the numerous cultivation books, and although the titles of these books were only glanced, they were still very mysterious, and they were a great temptation for him. However, this moment was also an annoying torture for him.

Suddenly, a book was found in the corner of the second row at the bottom of the shelf. He seemed a little surprised, and subconsciously raised his eyebrows. Of the precious and mysterious cultivation books on this floor, this one was definitely not the greatest, but its title reminded him of the past.

The title of this book is Wu Shanyang's "Haoran Sword Theory". It was the Haoran Sword that reminded Ning Que of the first cultivator he had met on the battlefield, the Great Sword Saint who was wearing a turquoise robe and planning to kill Princess Li Yu on the Beishan Road. The Great Sword Saint has been abandoned by the academy, and he is cultivating the Haoran Sword.

He crouched down and took out the Haoran Sword Book, and after a moment of hesitation, he walked back and sat on the piece of wood that he sat on almost every day. He sat in the warm spring sun and opened his book shortly after a moment of silence.

Outside the window, the cicadas chirp louder, and the forest seems quieter. The other students downstairs were quiet. Maybe the chirping of the birds is soothing them to sleep, or maybe they're struggling to prepare for next month's semester exams, licking the tip of their pen. Ning Que sat alone on the ground, between the chirping of cicadas and the silence.

Suddenly, his face turned pale. He clenched his right hand into a fist and pounded his chest as he tried to force himself out of meditation. He didn't dare to catch another glimpse of a page of that book.

He still reads with the deconstruction method of Yongbabi calligraphy. When he did so, he could faintly feel a familiar aura in his body a few days ago. The breath flew slowly over his chest and abdomen with calligraphic strokes along the brushstrokes, and then touched the lake wall in disappointment. However, he never expected that the style of writing and calligraphy in Wu Shanyang's "Haoran Sword Theory" would be extremely sharp. It, along with the breath in its body, will pierce the lake wall mercilessly and mercilessly, instead of looking back.

It was this thorn that made Ning Que feel that the cold blade suddenly pierced his heart. He had experienced life and death, had been seriously injured many times, and that painful feeling, even with a certain amount of preparation, he could not bear it.

If he were an ordinary person, at this moment he would probably scream and fall to the ground with a pale face. Next, the illusory state will mix with the real state, and then he will convulse and enter a comatose state.

But Ning Que is not an ordinary person, he has many experiences similar to this moment, even worse than this moment.

He didn't know how many times he had taken Sangsang over the rugged Min Mountain. Once, at the age of eleven, he fell off a cliff but was not killed; Luckily, he was stopped by a hard tree emerging from a cliff. However, the hard branch reached into the sky like a sword, piercing him directly in the back, but he still survived such a serious injury. From that day on, no pain could make him feel fear or despair.

If Ning Que, who was hanging on the branch of the cliff, had not died, then Ning Que, who was sitting on the ground and basking in the sun, would not have any problem. He didn't even mumble to himself, just took a breath, then regained his composure, looked at the closed book again, and muttered in a low voice,

"If a person's meridians are blocked, he will feel pain; Otherwise he would not have felt pain. This is truly an eternal truth.

He shook his head and leaned back against the shelf. He covered his lips with his sleeve twice and tried to suppress his cough, guessing that his lung lobe was probably injured by the Haoran Sword hidden in the pages. But very strangely, a feeling of excitement rather than frustration appeared on his face.

If a person feels pain, his meridians may become blocked. If a person endures pain and opens the meridians, will he feel pain again?

At this moment, Ning Que thought of those waterfalls that looked like the Milky Way falling from the sky, remembered the black oil spewing out of the wasteland, remembered the broken fire hydrant next to him, and an excited beautiful barefoot girl next to him rolled up her skirt, excitedly instead of panicking, and even remembered countless martial arts saints.

Some people's meridians are easily pushed away by sleep. Some people can be amazingly restored by lying in unfinished silk in a grave for several years, even if their power is disabled. There are those who can still be invincible even if their concepts and the ships of the governor are cut down by a knife. Some people, even if all the meridians are cut off, can turn themselves into inexplicable masters of "one meridian".

Ning pondered - if these old fellows and little boys could understand, why couldn't he? If those guys can finally succeed with some kind of stupid but resolute strength in their temperament, is he weaker than them?

A hint of tenacity and pride flashed in Ning Que's clear eyes. He braced himself on the bookshelf and struggled to get up. Then he walked over to the table in the west window, sharpened the ink, wet the brush, and left a passage for the fellow. "I understood the importance of opening acupuncture points. If I was destined to be blocked by Haotian at various acupuncture points, I had no choice...... Instead, push them away yourself.

After class the next day, when the bell rang, the students did not leave the study hall as elatedly as usual. Instead, they turned a barrage of shocked and bewildered faces to the door. Xie Chengyun and Zhong Dajun stood at the door, along with a few companions. They are students in the A-year dorm and there is no reason to be here today.