As night approached, Yun Jue Town was attacked by some monsters.
Lu Xiaoer was still drunk, holding his sword and leaning against the pillar drunkenly, giggling.
Wine is naturally a good thing sometimes.
When Nan Dao heard the sudden strong smell of blood in the wind, he held an umbrella and went out without calling Lu Xiaoer.
When they arrived all the way outside the town, the sword cultivators had already set up their battle lines. Although the hastily repaired town walls were a bit low, they could also serve as some barriers.
For sword cultivators, barriers are naturally extremely important.
Especially when Yu Jian is performing long-range suppression, a sword cultivator without a sword is naturally vulnerable.
Ximen stood there with the broken knife on his back.
Those monsters still look like ordinary people, but their bodies are filled with monster power, which makes their bodies strong enough to withstand Taoist cultivation of the same level of Taoism.
As for sorcery, this is a very weak field compared to swordsmanship, Taoism and even the art of witches and ghosts.
The Tao of Witches and Ghosts has been inherited for thousands of years. It began to appear since the time of gods and ghosts. It comes from the gods of ritual and is often presented in grand and magnificent images, which represents the prayers of the world for the gods and ghosts and the display of their divine power.
Taoism comes from Hangu Temple. It is based on the words of the Great Dao and observes the principles of the operation of the human world. There are ancient Taoist techniques from simple to complex, and there are also new techniques that imitate the heaven and earth today.
Swordsmanship is based on sword intention and developed from the ancient style of swordsmanship. It took on new vitality in the hands of Senior Brother Mo Jianya Seven.
The magic and demonic power were the last to appear.
When people think of the Monster Clan, if they are not of the same ilk, they often think of bravery.
However, such a species, which has been almost the same as the world since its birth, naturally follows the trajectory of the human world.
If the world is gentle, the demon clan will be gentle.
The same goes for black magic.
Inheriting the Taoist Sword Art, there is actually not much difference.
Yunhu didn't know that he had written about the internal differences between the art of witches and ghosts and Taoist practice. Naturally, he also studied some rare witchcraft and compared it with the three.
Each technique, in the final analysis, is naturally the use of the power it possesses.
Probably the only difference is that witchcraft always has a desolate meaning.
Just like they still remember the sad and miserable story of being expelled from the world when they were born.
There is a big demon blowing a xun in the distant mountains.
When Nan Dao stood on the barrier holding an umbrella, he heard the distant sound coming in the spring breeze at night in the small town.
Deep and desolate, it makes people feel depressed.
The people who heard it were not the only ones who were depressed.
The swords of those sword cultivators also sounded softly.
The sound of the xun reached their ears, but it made the sword cultivators present feel a sense of futility and desolation in their hearts, and they subconsciously wanted to retreat.
That's why there is the sound of swords clanging when encountering an enemy.
Ximen Jie's sword tapped lightly, and the sound was sonorous and high-pitched.
Wake up the sword cultivators in those small cultivation places in the world.
"What a sorcery."
It's not without reason that the monster clans unite to form their own army.
It’s not just that the demon clan is conceited about their demon power.
What's more, this kind of Xun sound magic has the meaning of the song of battle formation.
Where does this come from?
The sword cultivators seemed to have remembered something.
When the demon clan was born, Li Asan suddenly launched an attack. The demon master, who was still the Minister of Rites at the time, and the demon clan of the world were forced to fight Huai'an's army in Nanyi City. They were killed to the death and were defeated miserably.
After crossing Yunmengze, they encountered the demon-slaying army commanded by Tomorrow Xin, the head of the Demon Suppression Department at that time.
Forced to flee all the way to the Youhuang Mountains.
Although Huang Liang possesses the witch and ghost path, he combines it with Bingjia to form a witch armor that can summon souls and return. However, when Ming Xin was a boy, he killed all the people in the witch and ghost path in the south who dare not take the lead. In this case, Huangliang Bingjia Naturally, it was far inferior to Huai'an, so at that time, the song of the battle formation played a great role in the battle to exorcise the demons.
The most famous one is the demon-suppressing song played on the pipa that was preserved by the Demon-Suppressing Division at that time until later.
The people in Huangliang are full of gods and ghosts, and they are strange and unpredictable. Such music has extremely strong lethality to the demon clan and can dispel the demon's power, making the demon clan unable to fight anymore.
It's a pity that the world later followed suit, and the song that appeared briefly in the story of a thousand years ago to suppress demons was also lost in history.
It’s just that the world probably hasn’t thought about it.
The demon clan, however, used demon power to drive the war songs that had fallen upon them, and returned them to the human world in the story a thousand years later.
Nan Dao was also in a trance when he first heard those xun sounds.
But soon, there was snow in his eyes.
The Peach Blossom Sword behind him also unsheathed itself, covered with fine snowflakes, protecting it around him.
Ximen naturally noticed the meaning of the wind and snow, and turned to look at the young man under the umbrella who had just arrived not far away, with a lot of surprise in his eyes.
After seeing each other for three days, treat each other with admiration.
Ximen felt that facing this young man, he probably had to pluck out his eyeballs and throw them on his umbrella in order to truly see the many changes.
It's just that he doesn't want to be Zhang Xiaoyu, so naturally he won't really do it.
And those monsters have already arrived.
Ximen looked back at the monsters who came from the mountains and forests to the north, carrying the clear light of the night moon and bathing in the Xunyin magic.
Countless sword sounds sounded.
The sword cultivators who continued to gather towards Yun Jue Town were naturally enough to form a solid line of defense.
Simon stood there silently.
How to deal with the demon clan is naturally an extremely complicated problem.
But kindness, tolerance, and patience are obviously irrelevant to the current story.
Naturally, the world needs to give the demon clan a sufficiently painful counterattack so that they can retreat and reflect in their unnecessary anger and fear.
Under the moonlight, a sword with the meaning of wind and snow flashed away in the sword light.
Ximen looked at the sword quietly, thinking of the snowstorm in Nanyi City last April.
And the boy in the snow who was sent into the river by Zhang Xiaoyu's sword.
The young man carrying the broken knife turned to look at the other side of the barrier.
The young man stood calmly under the umbrella, his sword intent flowing around him, with a faint and extremely sharp trajectory in the clear night moonlight. The green-black sword hovered over him for a long time with the wind and snow that was constantly being reborn and dispersed. side.
The other scabbard behind him was empty.
Parrot Island and the sword cultivators went to the front lines of the monsters who came across the mountains and forests.
The sound seemed to have dropped - or maybe it didn't.
Just another, more sonorous and powerful music sounded in the mountains and forests.
If we say that the previous sound of the xun is a trace of the lingering charm left in the world by the story from thousands of years ago, it is long and desolate.
Then the sound of the pipa that came up later was the emotion that the demon clan had accumulated in thousands of years of stories and finally burst out.
It was as if Ximen saw it with his own eyes. A demon tribe poured all its demonic power into the bloody musical instrument in its arms. Standing in the cold moonlit mountain forest, it scraped off the flesh and blood of its fingers on the strings inch by inch. It's like a peach blossom falling down.
Both sad and strong.
There were monsters on the edge of those mountains and forests, facing the sword light that cut through the moonlight, they jumped up angrily with the sword in their hands, as if they wanted to cut them down.
It was just that the cold light was covered with the chill of fine snow, and it suddenly passed through his eyebrows, like dancing under the moon, and shot towards another demon clan again.
Ximen stood there, looking at the demon clan that slumped down and turned into some mundane things in the world after the demon power was dispersed. He probably felt a little angry - there is no anger in the human world, why are you angry?
Is it the world that you are afraid of, or the story from thousands of years ago that you are unwilling to forget?
Ximen stood there with a cold expression.
However, he still didn't let his broken sword come out of its sheath.
This is war.
rather than massacre.
The young man under the umbrella and the sword cultivators in the small town were enough to teach these demon clansmen, who were not very powerful, some painful lessons.
And on the other side of the barrier.
After passing through the night, Parrot Island fell back in front of the South Island.
The Peach Blossom Sword went away quickly.
Compared with Yiaozhou, which always has a cold light, the blue-black Peach Blossom Sword is obviously more deadly in the night.
The sword intentions surrounding Nan Dao were heading towards the mountains and forests where the monsters were rushing.
It's like a flowing veil blown away by the spring breeze.
Nan Dao lowered his head to look at the demon power that had been permeating the Parrot Island for a long time, and the demon blood that was cooling down on the hilt of the sword. He looked up under the umbrella at the demon clan calling out in the moonlight.
He remembered the story of when he first entered Nanyi City.
It was March 15th, one thousand and three years in the Dafeng calendar.
All Souls' Day on Earth.
At that time, he looked at the monsters, witches and ghosts coming by boat, all converging towards the tomb hill covered with green tombstones. At that time, the singing voices were loud and peaceful, and the drumming instruments were warm and peaceful. harmonious.
Nan Dao still remembers his deeply shocked mood at that time.
On the spring day of the year one thousand and four in the Gale Calendar.
Those past scenes were shattered in the young man's heart.
It's like a mirror being broken.
Then blood gushed out, and then the severed limbs flew out. The head rolled down in the spring breeze of the mountain forest, still carrying unreasonable resentment, and the obscene words in his mouth had not yet fallen to the ground - maybe they had already fallen, and then The fast running footsteps with demonic power were shaken together with the dust and broken leaves.
fell on the ears of the world.
Nan Dao lowered his head and raised his hand to wipe away the blood on Parrot Island. Then, under the cold moonlight, the clear water-like sword body illuminated the young man's blank eyes.
so.
Senior brother.
Why are you doing this?
This young man stood on the wall outside the town holding an umbrella, his three-foot sword intent flowing, and his body full of vitality.
But this is unhappy.
In war, everyone becomes a killing machine.
Nan Dao looked at the monsters that were gradually approaching. The splashing blood could sometimes fly very far until it landed on him.
At a certain moment, Nan Dao suddenly understood where the emotions of the swordsman in white, who was covered in blood and full of pain, came from during the battle in Nanyi City.
Killing is a painful and torturous thing.
so.
Senior brother.
You have obviously experienced such a story.
Why do we still do this?
Zhang Xiaoyu!
There was some anger in Nan Dao's heart after being deceived.
How much this young man believed in the sword cultivator in white, now he is so angry and painful.
But everything.
At the moment, it can only be hidden deeply in my heart.
The demon clan finally crossed the defense line paved with sword light and approached the safety line where the sword cultivators held their swords outside.
So those long swords fell back into their hands from the night with a chill.
In that distant and desolate Xun sound, whether it is a sword cultivator or a Taoist, the sword intention and vitality are inevitably declining.
However, those sword cultivators still held their long swords, carrying the sword's meaning and charm, and fell from the barrier to the battlefield.
When Ximen looked at the other side of the barrier.
The figure of the young man under the umbrella has disappeared above the barrier.
There is blood flying in the moonlight of the human world.
There is snow flying in the blood of the world.
The moonlight may be the color of snow.
...
When Lu Xiaoer woke up from his drunkenness, it was already very late at night.
The town seemed very quiet.
Lu Xiaoer thought so.
"Uncle Master?"
The young boy opened his eyes and looked around the yard, but he did not see the young uncle holding an umbrella.
The fire on the side was almost extinguished, and the wine inside was probably boiled dry. There was a burning smell permeating the yard, which was quickly blown away by the night wind.
Lu Xiaoer smelled the smell and was suddenly stunned for a moment.
Then he stood up unsteadily with his sword in his arms, raised his head over the eaves of the courtyard, and stared blankly out of the courtyard.
There was a strong smell of blood in the wind.
Lu Xiaoer had a bad feeling in his heart.
I called my uncle twice more, but there was still no response.
So he held his sword and hurriedly crossed the courtyard and ran towards the outside of the courtyard.
Just when he opened the courtyard door, he saw a young man sitting on the eaves of the courtyard opposite, holding the umbrella, carrying two swords on his back, holding his forehead, looking down at the jar in his arms that had been drunk. of wine.
Maybe he's resting.
Lu Xiaoer stared blankly at the blood on Nan Dao's body.
The smell of blood in the wind is very layered.
Some are very far away, and some are very close.
The very close smell of blood came from his uncle.
That look was very scary and very inconsistent. The young boy has never seen his uncle look like this.
Lu Xiaoer hesitated for a moment, then sat down quietly at the door holding his sword.
When I was drunk, the demon clan should have come.
This is an obvious story that requires no guessing.
Lu Xiaoer sat there, looking up at his uncle in silence.
Walking across the world with a sword is an imaginary story. Walking in the world will inevitably involve many struggles.
Riding a horse in the spring breeze, holding a sword and taking the lead are also idealistic things.
Just as a splash of blood is thrown into the spring breeze with an aesthetic quality, the same lingering color of blood remains in the heart.
War is the aggregation of thousands of such stories.
Nothing short of indignation is sufficient for the Dao.
The story of Nanyi City. Lu Xiaoer has not seen it. He doesn’t know how those 800,000 black armors were gradually stepped into the rain and mud of April. The black plants grew black fruits, and then they fell when they were ripe. Smashed.
Lu Xiaoer didn't catch up with tonight's story either.
But he seemed to have glimpsed the whole picture.
Nan Dao raised his head and looked at Lu Xiaoer. The long-lasting desire to kill in his eyes made the young nephew subconsciously tighten his grip on the sword in his hand.
But fortunately, this gaze disappeared soon, as if he was submerged in a dark lake.
The spring breeze blowing across the lake on a February night may have made it calmer.
Nan Dao left the wine jar on the alley wall, then turned over and fell into the alley.
He walked past Lu Xiaoer with a blood so rich that it made his heart gloomy.
"Bring me some water."
Nan Dao said softly.
Lu Xiaoer looked at Nan Dao's back as he walked in and nodded.
"Okay, uncle."
But the young boy still stood there holding the sword and did not move for a long time.
Nan Dao may have realized something and looked back at him.
Lu Xiaoer was silent for a long time, and then asked softly.
"Uncle, do you still regard him as your senior brother?"
Nan Dao was silent for a long time, and then turned around.
"It's inappropriate."
Lu Xiaoer's silence was naturally not because he wanted to escape such a story.
But he knew it very well.
Such a story comes from what kind of person it is.
Naturally, Nandao also knows it.
He was a depressed, struggling young man who always used many smiles to hide his pain.
But all in all.
It's not the reason why he put the world in water and fire.
Lu Xiaoer picked up a bucket from the yard and went to fetch water from the well in the alley.
Nan Dao stood on the edge of the yard for a long time, looking at the town where all the noise had fallen silent in the night.
The noise is obnoxious.
And the silence is chilling.
That means that there are countless people in the world lying quietly in the blood.
Nan Dao looked down at the umbrella in his hand.
Maybe he was reminded of the snowstorm outside Nanyi City a long time ago.
There is no one left alive in the world for ten miles.
That is also a heavy story.
But in Nan Dao's heart, it was not as good as the blood at the top of Nanyi City, or even far less than this tiny battle outside the small town.
In those windy and snowy sword lights, everything passed away extremely quickly.
He didn't even have time to take a look at the young man who had abandoned his umbrella and was quickly cut into pieces by the sword, before everything was lost in it.
But these are different.
The head was severed by a sword, and the blood vessels inside squirmed, spraying the blood on the face.
It was warm at first, with a temperature that made people consciously feel burned, and then slowly turned cold, like a tarsal maggot, crawling all over the body, and it was sticky and palpitating.
Nan Dao looked at the blood all over in silence. Even with a black umbrella covering his head, there were still too many of those things attached to his body.
Lu Xiaoer walked in carrying a bucket of spring well water.
"Do you want to burn it, uncle?"
Nan Dao shook his head, then took it, raised the umbrella in his hand higher, and flushed the bucket of water from his head.
Then it started to feel like a bloody rain fell in the yard.
But blood is black in the night.
Like some unknown liquid that is constantly eroding the human world, spreading violently.
The temperature of well water is naturally lower than the temperature of blood.
However, Nandao feels like a spring breeze in the wash of human water.
The young man took off his clothes and continued to fetch water.
until everything is rinsed clean.
Nan Dao walked over wetly and sat down on the courtyard steps.
Only then did Lu Xiaoer see the blood on the umbrella, so he returned to the alley and washed the umbrella with water.
The little boy felt like he was washing a black silent mushroom.
Like the whole town was silent.
