After listening to Zhang Qiubai's words, Feng Qingyang's doubts in his heart were even stronger, he could clearly remember that he was indeed participating in the trial of "Ascending to the Sky" just now, could it be that everything was because of the dream he had after he was drunk?

I pressed my chest, but there was no pain as it should be, and even the countless swollen and bloody wounds on my body disappeared.

Feng Qingyang did not suspect that everything in the Tianwu Continent was a dream of his.

But the feeling of the person in front of him was also extremely real, and he seemed to have a confusion in his heart that he had never felt before.

"Where's my sword?" the wind shook from side to side, as if he could feel at ease when he found the sword.

"Isn't your sword always by the bedside, Brother Qingyang, I really don't dare to pull you to drink next time, your amount of alcohol is too bad.

Picked up the silver sheath long sword on the bed, looked at the clear dragon carving on it, and lightly slashed the dragon sword in his hand, Feng Qingyang knew, everything was not a dream.

Gently stroking the long sword in his hand, Feng Qingyang looked at Zhang Qiubai and said with a faint smile: "Grandmaster Qiubai, how about we have another competition?"

"Oh, since Little Brother Feng has this Yaxing, I will naturally accompany him. ”

After a while, the two came to the empty backyard of Zhang Qiubai's mansion, which was also the place where Feng Qingyang and Zhang Qiubai discussed the sword before he was reborn.

came to a tree in the backyard, touched the slightly withered yellow leaves on it, and said lightly: "Grandmaster Qiubai, this leaf is yellow." ”

"yes, after a while, when the leaves fall, my old thing will be busy again. Zhang Qiubai touched his beard and looked at the tree with yellowed leaves, as if he were looking at himself.

"But I remember that when I saw it last night, it was still green. ”

"Hahaha, Brother Feng is laughing again, it's been autumn for a long time, how can there be green leaves. ”

"Oh, it could be late at night, I don't think so. Grandmaster Qiubai, let's get started. ”

"Haha, let the old man comprehend the sword master's tricks again. ”

Feng Qingyang lied, with the eyesight of a dignified generation of sword saints, how could he not be able to see the color of the leaves clearly because of the night, let alone in the present world where the lights were shining.

......

On the road of conscience wrapped in silver, the clouds and mist between the mountain roads seem to be getting heavier and heavier, and the last twilight of the outside world is also swallowed up by the surging fog.

Feng Qingyang walked on this steep stone staircase that extended to the depths of the dense fog, every time he stepped on a stone slab staircase, his body would stiffen for a long time, and the time in the fog was already very long, unconsciously, Feng Qingyang had walked almost a thousand stone slab steps, but he didn't know how far away from the top of the mountain, he was still walking step by step on this snow peak stone slab mountain road.

If you look closer, Feng Qingyang's eyes are full of emptiness at this moment, as if he is not looking at the stone stairs in front of him, but looking at a picture farther away, looking at a more distant time.

......

After fighting with Zhang Qiubai again, Feng Qingyang said goodbye and left, took the plane south, followed the mountain road, and came to the bottom of Wawu Mountain, silent as a tide, and bursts of birdsong came from the depths of the mountain, echoing endlessly.

This was his home, the place where he practiced swords, the place where he grew up, and the place where his master was buried.

Looking at the familiar mountains in front of him, Feng Qingyang's eyes oozed nostalgia, but his face was still faint.

"Master, I'm back again, you wait for me for a while, I'll come up in a moment. ”

A gentle voice came out, and after saying that, the wind cleared and began to climb the mountain, just like when he came here when he was nine years old, he was like an ordinary person, climbing this steep mountain that was more than a thousand zhang high, the road of Wawu Mountain was very steep, and the wind was clear and walked very slowly.

This time is a day later, this day and night, the wind is clear and does not close his eyes, twelve hours in a row without rest, keep climbing the mountain, and finally before the sunset the next day, climb to the mountain road, the top of the mountain is paved by the uneven bluestone slab, there are several low and dilapidated tile houses on the bluestone slab, and there is no popularity in the house. Since the death of Master Feng Qingyang, he has set foot in the world to find masters from all sides, constantly honing himself, and only returning once a year to worship the master.

The wind that climbed the mountain was clear and clear at this time, the coat on his body had been hooked by the branches on the mountain, and the exposed skin was also scratched, and wisps of blood flowed out of the sleeves of his clothes until he was on the worn palm.

Feng Qingyang has long been accustomed to the pain coming from his body, since the death of his master, he has buried his bones here, and since then, every time Feng Qingyang returns to the mountain, he will take the steepest mountain road that once tested him, not so much a road as a steep wall. Without using any skill, the pain caused by every climb is always spurred on by himself, and he can't live up to the high expectations of his master and the kendo he loves all his life!

After a long time, Feng Qingyang has long been accustomed to the pain of mountaineering, and he has long lost his feelings.

Facing the glow of the setting sun, he came to an ordinary grave, which had no monument, let alone an epitaph, only a rusty sword, stuck upside down in front of the tomb.

His master said that he only had a sword in his life, and the sword also accompanied him all his life, and he didn't need a tombstone to prove that he had lived, a sword was enough.

Looking at the rusty sword in front of him, Feng Qingyang was silent for a long time before he said lightly: "Master, I'm back again." ”

"Coming back this time, I want to tell you that I have lived up to your expectations, I defeated the Four Great Sword Sects and became the only Sword Saint. But..."

"This may be the last time I see you, I'm going to a far, far away place, after I'm gone, don't be afraid of loneliness on this Wawu Mountain in the future." This time I came in a hurry, and I didn't bring you your favorite shochu. Don't blame me. ”

"Don't worry, I won't drop my sword when I go there, he is my lifelong friend, just like you and your sword. ”

“...”

After saying a lot, Feng Qingyang looked at the rusty sword and was silent for a moment, then knelt down on his knees and kowtowed three times to the grave.

"You once said that men kneel to the sky and kneel to their parents, and you resolutely didn't let me kneel when I was apprenticing, for me, master, you gave me everything, you are my parents, and now I'm leaving, I'm afraid that if I don't kneel again, I won't have a chance in the future. I'm sorry, master. I'm leaving!"

After saying this, a tear fell from Feng Qingyang's eternally flat face.

The grave in front of him, the rusty sword, and the twists and turns of the road under his feet also changed the scene at this moment.

Everything is still in your thick fog, everything is still on the stone stairs paved with heavy snow, but the wind is clear and seems to make up for the regret on this endless mountain road, everything is so real, but suddenly like a dream.