October 7th, morning.
Sun Captou: "Since he is proficient in swordsmanship, boxing and Qinggong, he must be incompetent in leg skills. I will go up and compete with him in leg skills. I should be able to capture him with ease. Everyone, please rest assured!"
After a stick of incense, Sun was defeated and his leg was broken!
noon.
Li Captou: "Since he knows swordsmanship, boxing, Qinggong, and kicks, he can't do palm skills, right? I'll give it a try."
After a stick of incense, Li was defeated! The arm is broken and the true energy is in a mess, like a bereaved dog!
afternoon.
The young head catcher: "This is a difficult problem. Kick skills, sword skills, boxing skills, palm skills, and light skills. This guy at least came to the Hinayana. He can only compete with swords. My sword skills are unique, and there are still some Very sure!"
The young head catcher is defeated! Hit by three swords! Life hangs on a thread!
The eighth day of October, morning.
The old arrester said: "Since his boxing, kicking, swordsmanship... forget it, I won't go, I'm not sure!"
"How can Mr. Xing be so timid? After all, we have tried it again. There is no way he will be able to see you again with your three-finger play. What are you afraid of?"
"That's right! We must not increase the ambition of the bandits and destroy the prestige of the government! We are optimistic about you!"
"In that case, I will reluctantly give him a try!"
After a stick of incense, the old man was defeated. He was shot by three fingers, broke three ribs, and returned after vomiting three liters of blood.
The autumn colors are thicker, and the mountain scenery all over the mountains and plains is a little more lonely, just like the mood of a group of headhunters and policemen.
However, the mentality of the captors was very balanced at this time, and the shame of being defeated at the hands of a young bandit had disappeared a lot.
After all, it is really difficult to describe and communicate with each other about not worrying about scarcity but about inequality!
When the situation developed to this point, the thoughts of rescuing Miss Su faded away, and the thoughts of arresting the leader were uncontrollably focused on Xin Zhuo.
If I originally just thought that guy's sword skills were amazing, now I feel like he's a bit of a monster!
A sixteen-year-old boy is proficient in all kinds of martial arts. The key is that in addition to Chen Jing's boxing skills, he can also master the martial arts of the remaining five head catchers. The feeling of fighting with yourself.
The difference is that the little thief's mind is really mellow and domineering. Otherwise, in a simple competition, it is not certain who will win.
So, is this a coincidence or what?
"This kid...can't be a monster, right? Whatever we can do, he can do it, not too high, not too low, just about the same."
The young detective was lying on the stretcher and said with an extremely serious expression, "evenly matched" with a strong emphasis. There seems to be no other explanation other than the word "monster".
"There's something wrong with his martial arts background!"
Yuan Moer held her chest with difficulty and coughed lightly, "It is impossible for the thief's village to have so many Kung Fu books, and his age does not support him to learn them one by one. Could it be that the old thief Xin Aotian taught them personally? The old thief is obsessed with martial arts. , he likes to find people to compete with in single combat, my ancestor has fought against him, and it is said that Chen Captou’s master has also fought against him.”
"No! Although Old Thief Xin loves sparring, he will not retaliate in return. This is the specialty of the Taiping Palace masters, and it is impossible for those who are sparring to teach it to him!"
Chen Jing pressed his chest and said, "Old man Xin actually came from a very humble background, and he was of ordinary character. Lord Asi in the city once traced the origin of old thief Xin in detail and found that he was from the capital, was born as a slave, never married, and was born in martial arts. Learn and die in martial arts!"
"You have never married, so where did Xin Zhuo come from?" the old policeman asked in surprise.
Chen Jing frowned slightly: "This Xin Zhuo has a weird identity. When he was three years old, Old Thief Xin took him up the mountain and claimed that he was his grandson. As a result, Old Thief Xin was rude and fat as a bear, while Xin Zhuo was born tall and handsome. gratifying.
But these are not the main point. I have some doubts that Xin Zhuo is Mr. Dongfang’s student! After all, he is also a scholar! "
All the arresters couldn't help but look at each other in shock. Mr. Dongfang was the master of the Qiugong Pavilion and the oldest master. No one had ever seen him. It was said that he was very mysterious and his realm was unfathomable.
The young head catcher nodded and comforted himself: "If that's the case, it's easy to explain. Mr. Dongfang is a scholar of heaven and man, and the martial arts of the top catcher like me is actually average. People can understand it if they learn it."
Yuan Moer sneered: "How could Mr. Dongfang teach a bandit student?"
"this……"
The arresters were speechless. Indeed, I heard from the elders in the family that Qiugong Pavilion aims to bring peace to the world. If a student becomes a bandit, how can the world be brought to peace?
"correct!"
Yuan Mo'er said: "Why did Shuiyue'an Wuni and Qiugongge not come forward despite such a big commotion?"
Chen Jing smiled bitterly: "I learned from a pilgrim a few days ago that Qiugong Pavilion and Shuiyue Temple had an unknown reason. The martial arts and the students were fighting fiercely, so how could they bother to care about the bandits?"
All the detectives looked at each other again. Did the scholar and the nun start a fight? If you want to report to the official, who should you report to?
"Headhunters, everyone!"
At this moment, a policeman hurriedly came to report: "Mr. Murong and Mr. Studious are coming soon!"
…
Fulong Village.
In the room, Xin Zhuo looked at the twelve sacrificial spirits and a long list of exercises in the moon-watching well, and fell into deep thought.
Except for the sword skills, boxing skills and mental skills, which are adapted and mutated by Mochizuki Well, and have certain advantages against the enemy, the others are purely direct grabs, which are very ordinary and too complicated. The only advantage is that they can be used at will like arm commands. cast.
These completely different moves can also be integrated, but he feels there is no need to worry. The ones used to fight people, the undead ones, are still good.
Realm is the top priority!
At present, it has reached six out of seven and entered the seventh level.
Just one final step away!
However, it is said that there are only six agents with the highest level at the foot of the mountain, but they have all already come up.
Next, is it to send out ordinary ninth-level detectives? One of the seventy-two enters the seventh level?
Or are the people on the note arriving soon?
If the next person is unwilling to submit obediently and come up with other ways to rescue Su Miaojin, should they still stick to the hob?
At this time, there was a faint sound of sweet musical instruments playing outside.
Xin Zhuo stood up and opened the door. Huang Dagui, who was waiting outside, was holding a simple knife and Cheng Liang, one-eyed, came up to him with a flattering look on his face:
"What are the orders from the master?"
In the past few days, the thieves' loyalty to the master has changed from a quantitative change to a qualitative change. This has nothing to do with the identity of the master, but purely the worship of the master.
Xin Zhuo looked at the place where the instrument sounded: "Who is playing the piano?"
Huang Dagui grinned: "Mrs. Yazhai! I just finished washing the clothes and washing the dishes. I have to go play the pipa. Qiniang is accompanying her."
Xin Zhuo nodded and looked for the sound of pipa.
There is an open space to the west of the village, where many dwarf pines grow. There are six or seven earthen bags in the pine forest. The soil is fresh. There is a pavilion next to it. It is said to be a pavilion, but it is actually made of thatch and tree trunks. It is somewhat similar to a melon nunnery.
Han Qiniang was kneeling on a larger grave, burning paper money she had cut out with her hands.
That is the grave of grandfather Xin Aotian.
Su Miaojin was sitting in a pavilion playing the pipa, with a soft figure and delicate hands...
However, Xin Zhuo felt that playing the piano on the grave was a bit out of place and embarrassing.
He walked to the grave and burned a few pieces of paper before asking, "Does she know this is a graveyard?"
"I don't know if she knows." Han Qiniang thought for a while, "Maybe she doesn't know. Where has the daughter of a wealthy family seen a grave?"
Makes sense.
Xin Zhuo looked at the grave for a while, wondering if his grandfather's heroic life would be ended so hastily. Would he be willing?
Walking into the pavilion, sitting on one side, looking at the misty abyss beside me, and listening to the beautiful woman's flowing playing, it has a unique flavor.
Su Miaojin glanced at him with a complicated expression on her face. Her desire to survive had disappeared little by little with the defeat of the six head catchers.
She never thought that after being robbed once, she would encounter a monster boy that even the six major arrests could not deal with.
With thoughts in my mind, the playing on my hands inevitably slowed down.
Xin Zhuo asked in surprise: "Why don't you continue playing?"
To play or not to play? Play it to him?
Su Miaojin didn't want to look at him, half-hiding her face with her pipa in her arms. She was silent for a while, and then simply continued playing.
Play it to yourself, and feel sad in your heart.
Unexpectedly, Xin Zhuo looked at her blankly at first, then felt relieved, put his hands on the pillow, and sang in a low voice out of boredom:
"The Xunyang River sees off guests on the first night, and the maple leaves and flowers rustle in autumn.
…
After calling for thousands of times, he came out, still holding the pipa and half covering his face.
There are three or two sounds of the strings being plucked by the rotating shaft, and there is emotion before the tune is formed.
…
Lightly gathered, slowly twisted and wiped, and then picked again, it was a neon dress at first and six Yao later.
The big strings are noisy like the rain, and the small strings are like whispers.
Like a whisper ~
The bullets are noisy and mixed, and big and small beads fall on the jade plate.
Falling jade plate~
…”
Han Qiniang, who was burning the paper, turned her head in surprise. The boss is crazy. Why is he singing?
Su Miaojin looked at Xin Zhuo blankly, completely infatuated. This is a wonderful poem, with neat lines and smooth lines. It can be called a masterpiece.
It was something she had never heard of.
Still holding the pipa, half-hiding his face, are you talking about me?
The big strings are noisy like the rain... The small strings are like whispers... The noisy strings are playing in a jumble... Big and small beads are falling on the jade plate...
With these few lines, there is no more pipa poetry in the world.
The key point is that the tunes he sings are unique. Although they are a little weird, they are still elegant and beautiful.
This little thief is very talented, but... what's with the loneliness on his face? At such a young age, with such superb martial arts skills, shouldn't he be happy with life and be as proud as fire?
"Master, there's a big group of people coming down here, and there's a little guy with a yo-yo face. He looks so arrogant!"
At this moment, Huang Dagui ran over like a girl, breaking the silence.
