The next day, the fifth day of the fourth month.

A glorious spring day.

Hong Fan, Wu Ruyi, and Bai Jiaci came to Zhan County again.

Last time it was on foot.

This time it was a boat ride.

The last time I came was in January, and the plum blossoms were sparse and the snow and ice had not disappeared.

This time, the east wind has already changed its years.

At the door of Zhan's house, Hong Fan saw Zhan Huizi who was waiting here.

He came to worship his brother.

A simple greeting, no extra greetings, and the four of them were on their way.

Then he was stopped by a "wait" in the house.

Hong Fan looked back and found that it was the father of the Zhan family's brothers.

The old man was still strong last time, but this time he is only about to decline.

He walked slowly across the courtyard on crutches, supported by the butler.

Across the threshold, Father Zhan first glanced at the wooden box that Hong Fan was carrying, then bowed deeply to him, and left without saying a word.

The four of them set out on the road in silence.

In April.

All the way out of the county, the sky is full of willow fluttering, lightly sprinkled in the wind.

Walking fifteen miles, Zhan Yuanzi was buried in the family tomb of the Zhan family.

Probably for the sake of feng shui, the location is also a high place with a wide view of the mountain peak.

It was the first time for Hong Fan and the others to come.

The tomb was made of blue bricks.

On the top of the tombstone, there is a clear pebble pressed against the fresh yellow paper.

In front of the grave, the sacrificial offerings had not yet been burned.

Hong Fan carefully identified the remnants of paper, pen and painting tools.

"You burned it for him?"

He asked Zhan Huizi.

"My dad burned it."

The latter shook his head and replied.

Hong Fan sighed lightly.

He knew that what could not be burned in the pile of ashes was not pen and paper, but regret.

Wu Ruyi and Bai Jiaci first went to light incense and candles for the land, and then placed a few simple sacrifices.

"I've been waiting."

Hong Fan was solemn, took out the head of Ao Zhixian with lime nitrate from the wooden box, and sacrificed it in front of the grave in a dignified manner.

Standing upright, he seemed relieved, and opened his mouth to make some statements.

But after a moment's pause, nothing was said.

From the fifteenth day of the first month to the first day of the fourth month.

When the heart burned like a fierce fire at the time of revenge, now it turns into cold ashes.

"Brother, your revenge has been avenged."

Finally, Zhan Huizi on the side muttered.

Hong Fan could only nod.

He untied the wine bag hanging from his waist, poured a big sip with Wu Ruyi and Bai Jiaci, and then sprinkled the remaining half of the bag in front of the grave.

Life and death are separated, and nothing is superfluous.

Silence is the best companion.

Zhan Huizi accompanied the three Tiqi to sit down on the grass in front of the grave.

The wind was picking leaves in the distance.

The Yao River, which is as clear as a practice, staggers in the distance.

In the sky by the river, a small dark cloud rains on its own.

Beyond the rain pillar, squatting in the unknown Nomura.

Hong Fan looked at the rain and the village, feeling itching deep in his bone marrow.

That's loneliness growing.

He got up, crouched back in front of the grave, brushed away the soot with his bare hands, and lit the unburned pen and paper again with the vigor of the flames.

The fire rises, and the light goes out.

After a while, a wind passed by, carrying away some of the burning embers.

Hong Fan followed them for a long time with his gaze.

It's as if a part of yourself is also following the wind.

·······

Later that day, at the pier in Zhan County, Zhan Huizi said goodbye to her brother's friends.

Hong Fan leaned on the head of the boat, and Wu Ruyi sat in the boat.

It's still Bai Jiaci rocking.

The Yao River is wide and gentle.

Although the boat is against the current, with the strength of the rocker, it can easily have the high speed of a sailing boat.

It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, a quarter or two later.

The boat turned around an unknown number of river bays and crossed the southern wall of Xijing.

Hong Fan drank lightly at the wine bag.

When he left Zhan County, it was filled with the grain wine brewed by the Zhan family.

As soon as he had planned to get dark, countless lights had been lit up on both sides of the Yao River.

The boat went further.

Hong Fan put down his wine bag and saw a crowd of people crowded at both ends of the Xianzun Bridge, and there were figures jumping in the center of the bridge.

"What's going on?"

He asked blankly.

"Don't you know? It is our Hongyi's 'Wave Breaking Knife' Fan Zhengzhi who challenged the 'Thunderbolt' Cao Hanhai for the second time. ”

Bai Jiaci replied.

"Cao Hanhai's age is approaching, and he is about to be off the list."

"At this time, Tianjiao will often not hesitate to fight with his fellow villagers - if he loses, the vacated position will most likely stay in Liangzhou."

"It's kind of a convention."

As he spoke, he slowed the ship.

It's rude to interrupt someone's appointment.

"Their covenant was settled in March."

Wu Ruyi added.

"It's just that you and the red-faced god stole the limelight."

Hong Fan nodded, drank the remnants of wine, leaned his elbows on the edge of the boat, and looked at it.

Fan Zhengzhi stabbed with his backhand, pulled out the water bridge from the middle of the river, and the attack did not stop.

Both of them are martial artists of the sympathetic level of heaven and man, and every move and style causes the turmoil of innate aura.

The boat stopped in the middle of the river, opposite the sunset across the bridge.

Hong Fan looked at the Xianzun Bridge, looked at the two people fighting on the bridge, and looked at the eyes of the two sides of the strait gathered in the past, and suddenly had a wonderful illusion.

It was as if he had returned to yesterday, and he was his own audience.

The steel knife collided with the iron meteor, making a clear sound.

Hong Fan's thoughts immediately drifted farther away.

He remembered a year ago.

Just from the border to the state capital, everything around me seems to go from a story to a reality.

Fan Zhengzhi went out again.

It's still that trick "mirage".

It was sent out in April of the twenty-eighth year of Zhenghe, and it was cut down in April of the twenty-ninth year.

This time, even the sunset reflected on the blade is exactly the same.

Cao Hanhai was defeated.

Cheers of admiration rang out on both sides of the strait.

Magnificent and ethereal, as if Xijing City was speaking.

"It's a good thing that the new person replaces the old one."

Bai Jiaci said happily and shook the oar.

The further the boat goes, the clearer the sound of "Tianjiao" in the wind.

On the bridge, Fan Zhengzhi, the "wave breaking knife" who had fulfilled his long-cherished wish, was the first to recognize Hong Fan who was sitting at the head of the boat, and bowed his hand from afar.

As a result, the voices of the two sides of the strait have also changed.

From "Tianjiao" to "Liangzhou Tianjiao".

Hong Fan listened to the wind and couldn't help but be stunned.

A year ago he listened to other people's stories.

A year later, he became someone else in the story.

"If Yuanzi is still here, I don't want you to be so depressed."

Wu Ru had an opinion and couldn't help but persuade.

"If he'...... still alive"

Hong Fan replied.

"If he is still here, he should be happy that there are thousands of lights and voices in front of him, and he should be angry that he didn't bring pen and paper!"

A smile finally spread across his face.

For two years, he has been losing.

Lost his relatives in his previous life, lost his old days of Jinhai, and lost his teammates in Xijing.

For two years, he has been becoming.

became the second young man of the Hong family, became the Tiqi of Xijing, and became the Tianjiao of Liangzhou.

Jiang Tao slapped the boat, shaking the floating world.

Hong Fan's eyes moistened.

The light dissipates the halo.

The lights blurred and overlapped, turning into a raging fire, igniting the years that had settled in his heart.

On the shore of the bridge, the sympathetic and qi realm martial artists of heaven and man suddenly felt the fluctuation of innate aura.

But on the side of the boat, the river is boiling.

Cao Hanhai looked down and saw that there was sunlight and lights in Hong Fan's eyes, refining into a golden red.

"Hong Gongzi, but the martial arts have entered the country again?"

He asked, leaning his hand on the railing.

The boat drifted into the bridge hole.

He was answered by an ethereal singing.

"Turn the canopy away from the roots, swaying with the long wind.

What do you mean to lift back and into the clouds.

High and boundless, Tianlu can be poor?

Like this tourist, he donated his life from Rong. ”

By the time the roar was swallowed, the boat had crossed the rock bridge and was far away between the water and the sky.

(End of Volume II)

pS：

Turn the canopy away from the root, fluttering with the long wind.

What do you mean to lift back and into the clouds.

High and boundless, Tianlu can be poor?

Like this tourist, he donated his life from Rong.

The hairy brown does not hide its shape, and the weeds are often not full.

Go to Mo Fu Dao, the sorrow makes people old.

- "Seven Miscellaneous Poems (Part 2)" Cao Zhi

Because it is the last chapter of the volume, the strokes are more lyrical.

The third volume will be serialized normally, but it will take a few days to work the outline.

I was in my hometown in Zhejiang on National Day, and I returned to Shanghai on the seventh or eighth day.

It should be updated the next day after I go back - I will try my best to stabilize it, but because there are no manuscripts, there is no guarantee.

Happy holidays to all of you.

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