That night, it rained in Chang'an.

The rain was heavy and fierce, accompanied by thunder, and it exploded deafeningly all night. Until the next morning, the rain was still falling, and the thunder lingered, as if the sky was snoring.

Ling Jiang stretched out an oil umbrella and stepped into the rain alone.

The rain in Chang'an was too violent, the wind was blowing diagonally, and after only a few steps in the rain, Ling Jiang already felt that his trouser legs and shoes were wet, and every step was like stepping on water.

Because of the heavy rain, it was very dark, and only a gray light and shadow appeared on the horizon.

From Anxingfang to Yongxingfang, you only need to pass through two or three alleys, a long street, and then walk nearly half a mile forward, and you can see the gate of Guozijian. This distance is estimated to be only a quarter of an hour, which is not too far.

But because of the rain, Ling Jiang always felt that he hadn't seen the door of Yongxingfang after walking for a long time.

I don't know if it's because the rain has become light, but he faintly heard the sound of treading water behind him, as if someone was following him lightly, but because of the water everywhere, the sound was infinitely amplified.

The young man subconsciously turned around and looked back, and at the moment when the oil umbrella was pushed away, a sharp blade came to him.

Crash!

The oil umbrella swept up into the sky with the wind, and the boy's body fell into a low-lying puddle in embarrassment, and under the gloomy sky, it was completely impossible to see the color of the splashed water.

The boy was breathing heavily, and he could feel a threat of death rapidly approaching from the darkness, a scalp exploding, barely perceptibly raining down on him, every drop of flesh and blood on his body watching the unknown death.

The moment he got up from the puddle, the dagger struck one after another.

Perhaps because he didn't want to leave too obvious traces, the other party did not choose to assassinate with a sword, but used a dagger. Before, Ling Jiang's jaw had already been rubbed through a three-inch-long skin.

The dagger flew into the air again.

The young man relied on his dexterous body to Zhou Xuan in the rain, he clenched his hands into fists, and then waited for the opportunity to make a move.

Suddenly, the black-clothed figure in front of him suddenly burst forward, and in the blink of an eye, he was pressed to the ground, not that the young man couldn't dodge, but he was just pondering, which big man he had provoked, and why the murders came one after another.

"Who the hell are you?" The man was masked, Ling Jiang couldn't see clearly, and only saw a pair of eyes containing killing intent, as if looking at a dead corpse.

He didn't reply, and the dagger was plunging straight into his head.

This time, it should be a game of death.

Ling Jiang's right leg exerted force violently, bent his knee and pushed it upwards hard, just hitting the root of the man's thigh, and the sharp pain made the stabbing dagger much slower. The young man took advantage of the trend and turned his arms in the same direction as he turned over.

There was a splash on the ground.

Whoa!

The blade was like a poisonous snake in the night, and in an instant it cut through the young man's chest, leaving a long cut on his clothes, although it was not very deep, but the blood did not stop.

The man got up from the ground, hunched over and said, "Someone bought your life." ”

"Who?" Ling Jiang asked, enduring the pain, the cold rain washed over the wounds on his body, it was an indescribable cold numbness.

"No need to ask, you won't have to know anything when you're dead. With that, the man rushed forward with his dagger.

The technique is clever, the killing is decisive, and the nonsense is less.

This is Ling Jiang's evaluation of this killer, obviously a veteran who has been walking the rivers and lakes all year round.

And since you are a veteran, you should have a weakness, especially after leaving a wound on your body, that weakness will be more easily exposed.

The young man walked on the horse, exhaled slowly, and the set of dragon fist techniques running between his palms.

It's like a painter painting, on the rain curtain rice paper in front of him, constantly leaving one after another abrasion marks, some light and some heavy, but they are all dodged away by the teenager one by one.

During the two months that Ling Jiang was in Dongting Lake, what he really improved was not the killing technique, but the dodge method.

You know, wearing heavy armor and staring at the impact of the waterfall to punch will make his bones continue to increase, and once he gets out of that oppressive state, his physical speed will become extremely fast.

This is also why this killer has repeatedly attacked him, but he has never been able to hit the vital point of the boy.

This was repeated several times, and as a lightning bolt passed through the world, the thunder was close to exploding.

The man's figure hesitated, albeit briefly, but was caught by the young man's sharp gaze.

"Left shoulder. The young man's heart sank, and he pinched the dragon's move and approached step by step.

Brush!

Syllable!

A punch and a knife fell almost simultaneously.

Why protect his throat, the young man raised his left arm at the same time as he punched, and took the knife stiffly.

The man stabbed the boy hard, and he was already overjoyed, but he didn't expect that the old wound on his left arm would suddenly recur, and the pain made him almost faint.

At first glance, it was clear that it was not a recurrence of an old injury, but a precise punch from the boy on the left shoulder. His left shoulder was almost shot off a few years ago, leaving the root of the disease.

The two of them were already red-eyed, although Ling Jiang had never killed anyone, but under the threat of death, he was able to shoot without any worries, and his fists were fatal.

I don't know how many times I went back and forth with one punch and one knife, at least Ling Jiang could be sure that if he hadn't been a martial artist who had crossed the triple mountain, he would have fallen to the ground and died.

The boy's eyelids became heavier and heavier, and he seemed to be dragging a body that did not belong to him in the streets and alleys.

All he could remember was knocking the man unconscious with a punch, and then he turned and fled. He didn't dare to return to the mansion for fear of endangering Ya'er. And at this time, there is only one place that is safe.

The blood followed the boy as he walked, leaving a long trail.

Even in a thunderstorm, it is still difficult to wash it away.

Ling Jiang didn't know how much blood was on a person's body, but he knew that if the blood on his body flowed a little longer, he would really die.

The three words Guozijian had become empty in his sight, and when he stepped into that gate, he was like a wanderer returning home with difficulty, and fell to the ground in a pool of blood, and the remaining merciless rain covered the traces of coming.

The occasional early riser soon found a bloody man lying in front of the door, and the news soon spread throughout the entire Guozijian and even in the eyes and ears of some ministers in the court.

The attack on the Guozijian Scholar was halfway through, which is not a trivial matter.

It is simply an insult to the face of the imperial court, and it puts the world's scholars in danger and danger.

From then on, Guozijian was no longer a name that could make people raise their heads, which was something that saints would never allow.

Therefore, this morning, the saint was furious and ordered a thorough investigation of the matter.

"As a Three Realms Qi Practitioner, he actually chose to fight with the assassins, how many people will be ridiculed and ridiculed when this is spread?"

When the scholar found Ling Jiang, he had already stepped into Huangquan Road with half a foot.

It was Xu Zitao who allowed the use of all the elixirs in the Guozijian stockpile, and he had to save him at any cost. Otherwise, Ling Jiang at this moment should be lying quietly on the morgue in the mortuary wrapped in a white cloth.

"Although he is a monk of the Three Realms, he doesn't know how to use spells, and he doesn't even know how to operate the aura of heaven and earth. Xu Zitao shook his head on the side and said, "Fortunately, he has a solid foundation in martial arts." ”

"But, it didn't work. Yi Changyuan shook his head and said, "In Chang'an, the martial artists of the rivers and lakes who can only punch blindly will not live long." What's more, he is still a descendant of the Ling family, and after this incident, he will not be able to escape the attention of the imperial court. ”

Xu Zitao said softly: "Since Su Qiuhe is willing to let him come to Chang'an, he should have thought about this matter." But if things do get to that point, what will you choose?"

"If murder can calm this storm. Yi Changyuan was only halfway through his words, staring at Ling Jiang heavily for a long time, and finally left a long sigh and turned to leave.

When Ya'er got up, she pushed open the window upstairs and saw an oil-paper umbrella discarded on the corner of the street, with a little mud and sand on the edge of the umbrella.

She hurried through the crowd, trembling her little hands holding the oil umbrella waiting to be retrieved by the owner, tears in the corners of her eyes, and her eyes were slightly red.

On the handle of the umbrella, a deep, deep notch was left.

She remembers that last night, it was still an umbrella in perfect condition.