Tianshui stream, hanging cliff.

There was a hunched old man sitting cross-legged on the edge of the cliff, a wine gourd standing beside him, his gray hair tied behind him with a strip of coarse cloth.

The old man raised his eyes and looked, but the sword and the person that year left behind only a torn cyan rag.

On the overhanging cliff, a wooden house was built, and on the roof of the wooden house a few weeds grew and shook the branches and leaves in the wind.

In front of the door, a young man threw down the small stone in his hand and ran towards the old man with a hunchback. When he approached, the young man's immature little face was very serious about learning the old man with a hunched back, and he sat cross-legged on the edge of the cliff.

The old and the young sat side by side, but the wind on the overhanging cliff was a little strong, blowing their clothes and hunting.

"Mo'er, in a few days, we are going down the mountain, before leaving, grandpa will dance a sword rain for you. ”

The hunchbacked old man picked up the wine gourd beside him and poured a mouthful of turbid wine into his mouth, he looked at the young man beside him, his face was full of love.

"Sword rain, grandpa, is that rain made of swords?"

Mo'er raised her head and asked seriously.

"Yes, a rain made of swords. ”

The hunchbacked old man gave up the wine gourd in his hand, and he smiled and got up.

Mo'er's eyes widened, full of curiosity, what the rain made with the sword looked like, he had never seen it before.

"Okay, okay, grandpa, Mo'er wants to see this rain made with a sword. ”

Mo'er also stood up, and he clapped his hands with a smile.

"The towering three-foot Qingfeng Sword is a long way to go. Mo'er, look at it. ”

The body of the arched old man was shocked, solemn, and his demeanor was also extraordinary.

A small sword about an inch long appeared above the head of the arched old man, and the glow was dazzling. The old man walked with his hands in his hands, stepped out of the edge of the cliff, and walked in the void.

"The sword comes. ”

As soon as he asked for the sword, the small sword that was an inch long rose in the wind, and in an instant, a three-foot-long Qingfeng sword was held in the hand of the arched old man.

"I hold the sword, and I should guard what I should protect. ”

As the words fell, the three-foot Qingfeng sword held by the arch-backed old man was dancing, as soft and continuous as water. Suddenly, a gust of wind arose, blowing away the clouds, and a thousand rays of light rose into the sky, inserting into the sky.

The sky became colorful and dazzling, and the 10,000 stars were falling slowly, like rain on the earth.

This is a rain of swords, falling on the ninth month of the world.

There was once a person, wrapped in green clothes, holding a three-foot Qingfeng, standing proudly in the world.

Mo'er was stunned on the edge of the cliff, and her face couldn't hide her shock.

This rain of swords, dancing for you, is also for him.

That year, he sealed his sword and faded his green clothes.

This year, he gave up his life, and the three-foot Qingfeng appeared.

"Prison Master, after many years of fighting in the Nether, I was still calculated by you after all. ”