Dafeng Calendar: March of the year one thousand and three.
There is a continuous spring rain in this town.
Someone is pretending to be a mushroom.
When the man who looked like a horse came towards the alley, Zhang San closed his mouth nervously and pressed down the umbrella in his hand, just like a mushroom covered by fallen leaves. It's not enough, it's like hiding in the mud under the leaves.
The Taoist Li Shi beside him looked a little strange.
He squatted there uncoordinatedly, his whole body shaking in an unreasonable way, as if he might run away at any time.
It was clear that the Taoist's umbrella was well held, and there was a big rag covering it, but the spring rain happened to fall all over his face at some point, making him look like a sweaty man squatting there thinking. It's like I ate something that made me angry last night.
Zhang San looked at the Taoist strangely, but after thinking about it, he felt it was very reasonable.
When I made mushrooms for the first time, I was also panicked when I saw someone coming.
What's more, Zhang San turned back carefully and looked at the rejecting horse.
Zhang San looked at him in amazement.
It's surprising enough that I am a mushroom, but I didn't expect that someone else is a Jima.
It's like a man with a sword stuck in his heart.
It's a pity that Zhang San doesn't know him, otherwise he would go up and ask, "How do you look like this, black and white?"
The two mushrooms are well hidden. Even if someone trembles a little, it can be regarded as the trembling leaves hit by the spring rain. Who knows that in which forest, under which tree, under which leaf, there will be a trembling person hidden? What about the mushrooms?
Naturally, Juma would not have thought that, just like a man with a sword stuck in his heart, he planned to walk quietly through this alley to... Zhang San didn't know that he would go there either. Where, just hiding under the leaves, watching him getting closer and closer.
The Taoist next to him was shaking more and more violently.
This made Zhang San a little sad.
Today's mushrooms are really inferior to each other.
Even if it's a rejected horse, there's no need to be afraid of it.
Zhang San turned his head carefully and wanted to comfort Daogu next to him.
But when the old mushroom turned his head, he found that the eyes of the mushroom next to him were shining with a strange light.
Zhang San was stunned for a moment.
So it wasn’t nervousness, but excitement?
While Zhang San was stunned, the Juma was getting closer and closer, bringing with it some very frightening power, just like some of their human sword intentions.
And at that moment, the light in the Taoist's eyes dimmed, and he suddenly became as calm as a bottomless deep lake.
Those sword winds stopped, Ju Ma stopped at the edge of the well, then raised his eyebrows and leaned down.
"Hey, why are there two mushrooms here?"
Zhang San's heart was beating loudly, although he didn't know why he had a human heart even though he was a mushroom.
But he felt that when he met those eyes, his heart was about to beat out of his chest.
A hot pot instantly appeared in his mind. It was steaming and red. Someone put him into the soup and rinsed it back and forth.
Zhang San suddenly opened the rag on the umbrella, like a rushing mushroom, knocked over the wooden barrel on the edge of the well, and ran out of the alley.
But before he ran a few steps, Zhang San heard some strange sounds behind him.
So the man who was planning to run away stopped and looked back at the well.
The Taoist who no longer trembled and had eyes as calm as water stood up with a spring rain on his face. Then before the rejecting horse had time to react, he suddenly moved forward, abandoned the umbrella in his hand, and grabbed the rejecting horse. A wooden stake was pushed in deeper.
Zhang San was stunned at that scene, wondering why you pushed the pile as if you were holding a sword and stabbing it in?
Why is that Juma like other people in the world, with a lot of blood pumping out from his heart like a peach blossom blooming on your shoulders?
Why did the people in the alley smile again after being surprised?
Zhang San couldn't understand anything. After all, he wasn't even a vegetable, he was just a mushroom.
So in the quiet alleys of Chunyu Town in March, the sincere voice of the Taoist came.
"Li Shi from Shanhe Guan has met Senior Cong Ren."
It turns out that the white horse opposite is called Cong Ren, which is worse than Zhang San.
Zhang San even forgot that he was running away. Although his heart was still beating very fast, the scene of being caught and thrown into hot pot still continued in his mind.
Just watching the excitement is probably not only human nature, but also the nature of mushrooms.
So more mushrooms passing by the alley came over.
Zhang San thought to himself, you are really fucking idiots.
They are all crowded together. What if a little girl picking mushrooms comes and makes her laugh?
Zhang San glanced at the mushrooms at the entrance of the alley, and then looked back into the alley. It would probably be very pleasant to eat dried mushroom slices while watching the excitement.
...
Cong Ren, who had peach blossoms on his chest, stood in the spring rain and coughed. He lowered his head and looked at the sword over his heart, with only the hilt exposed. He raised his hand to wipe the blood from the corners of his lips, and then raised his head. He looked at Li Shi with a smile without surprise.
"You are indeed an extremely outstanding junior, and you are also very imaginative. Li Shi, you make me wonder whether you are a descendant of the Huaian Empress Li Asan."
Li Shi withdrew his blood-stained hand, his face a little pale - the sword inserted into Cong Ren's heart caused the blood of this swordsman, one of the three swordsmen in the world, to be filled with sword intent.
So on the pale Taoist face, there were gradually countless sword marks flowing around, like some colorful bamboo shadows or some underwater fish, but in the end, everything slowly turned into some peach blossoms, The bloody peach blossom mark contrasts with the peach blossom tree on the Taoist's shoulder.
The Taoist coughed twice and raised his palms in salute.
"Senior has given you too much praise."
On the Taoist's palm, drops of blood were slowly dripping.
Cong Ren looked at the Taoist with great admiration, and then said softly: "So you released the goddess in Daze."
"Yes."
"You also stole Qingxuanxu's arm bones."
"Yes."
The Taoist answered all questions with utmost sincerity.
Cong Ren sighed softly and his eyes fell on the umbrella beside him. There were two words on the umbrella, nineteen.
"Stop sage and abandon wisdom, abandon benevolence and righteousness, abandon skill and profit."
The sword cultivator, standing in the spring rain dressed in blood, looked at the Taoist with sigh.
"What a dead end."
Whether you sit back and ignore it or pursue it, everything will lead to the three absolutes.
"The story of Bai Fengyu has given us too many warnings."
Li Shi said softly.
"So I'm sorry, senior, I have to cut off your destiny."
Cong Ren smiled slightly.
"The arm bone was sent to Kamigawa."
"Yes."
In this alley, Li Shi's answers are always sincere.
Cong Ren quietly raised his head and looked towards the north across the spring rain.
The sword cultivator in white looked at it for a long time, then lowered his head and looked at the Shanhe Taoist in front of him.
"It seems that you know very well what's going on between our two senior brothers."
When some stories are pushed to the end of it all.
Some conflicts naturally become irresolvable.
Li Shi lowered his head and picked up the umbrella. Without saying anything, he walked quietly into the spring rain.
"Goodbye Styx, senior."
The world has probably never imagined that such a young Taoist, only twenty-six years old, would casually announce the death of one of the three swordsmen in the world, the leader of the Human Sword Sect, the Karmic Sword Congren in this small southern town.
The sword cultivator in white looked down at the blood on his heart under the gaze of the mushrooms that were growing vigorously in the thousands of spring rains, and then walked forward calmly.
Even though he knew that Kamigawa was waiting for him in the years ahead.
Cong Ren left as promised.
This is naturally a dead end.
Kamigawa, who has obtained the arm bone of Qingxuanxu, will always have all the reasons that Congren needs to face.
...
It is the fifth day of March in the calendar year 104 of Dafeng Calendar.
The weather in Donghai Town is sunny and the sea breeze is moist and gentle.
Cong Ren sat outside the noodle shop and ate noodles comfortably.
Wang Xiaoer, who used to make wine, makes noodles that are unimaginably delicious.
So Zhang Xiaoyu once ate so much that he never wanted to leave, and Qiu Shui also came here to eat a bowl of noodles before he left this world.
Cong Ren was blowing the clear sea breeze, and used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of chopped green onion on the edge of the bowl, put it into his mouth, and sucked the head of the chopsticks with nostalgia, and then looked at Wang Xiao who was eating melon seeds. two.
Chen Huaifeng has endless amounts of wolfberry wine, and Wang Xiaoer has endless amounts of sunflower seeds.
"Don't be too ostentatious in the future."
Cong Ren looked at the very comfortable shopkeeper and said.
Wang Xiaoer turned around in confusion, looked at this very unusual swordsman, and asked, "What?"
Cong Ren lowered his head and took a sip of noodle soup, sighed with satisfaction, and repeated it again.
"I told you not to be too ostentatious in the future."
Wang Xiaoer held half a handful of melon seeds and scratched his head.
"What's the meaning?"
Cong Ren chuckled softly: "You can cook delicious noodles, but don't let the world know that your noodles are delicious."
Wang Xiaoer was still a little confused.
Cong Ren then thought about it and said, "Then let me tell you a story."
Cong Ren seems to like telling stories.
Many years ago I also told a story with that fledgling Taoist priest Xie Chaoyu.
"Once upon a time, there was a tavern owner. I don't know his name, so let's call him Wang Xiaoer. Many years ago, Wang Xiaoer had an ancestor who made wine that suited a certain person's taste, so the world It is said that it is the best wine in the world."
Wang Xiaoer listened quietly, feeling that the story was somewhat familiar for no reason, and then he interjected.
"But it doesn't actually taste good?"
Cong Ren stirred the soup in the bowl and said with a smile: "Not only did it not taste good, it was also deadly. Everyone who drank that kind of wine wanted to beat him up."
Wang Xiaoer waited for a long time, but Cong Ren didn't continue talking. The noodle shop owner asked curiously: "Where's down there?"
Cong Ren smiled and said: "Yes, down there!"
Wang Xiaoer was confused.
Cong Ren took a sip of the soup and said, "This story is as simple as that. There is no more."
Wang Xiaoer thought to himself, what the hell is this?
The white-clothed swordsman continued: "Your noodles are indeed delicious. It suits my taste, and maybe the taste of today's people. But things will change. Maybe today people like to wear loose robes, but tomorrow they will like to wear loose robes." Do you like to dress tight and shake your head on the street? The same goes for eating noodles. Who knows if people in the world will still like to eat your noodles in a few years? When the time comes, they will come here because of your reputation and find that it is all fake, so they Just like the brewer, I'll beat you until your mother can't even recognize you."
The swordsman in white clothes was eating noodles and talking nonchalantly.
Wang Xiaoer had no intention of listening anymore. Amidst the sounds that sounded like rain, he gradually opened his eyes wide and looked at Cong Ren's heart in panic.
The place suddenly turned red, and then blood began to drip, dripping into the bowl held by the swordsman in white, like some bright red spicy oil.
When Cong Ren was very emotional, he saw Wang Xiaoer's frightened eyes, so he lowered his head, looked at his heart, was silent for a while, and then laughed softly.
"Don't be afraid, things will change. This is normal."
Wang Xiaoer and Ai Ai didn't say anything for a long time.
"So sometimes people think it's a good thing to have people like me, Cong Ren, in the world, and sometimes they think it's a bad thing."
Cong Ren smiled slightly and continued to drink the noodle soup in the bowl, looking at the bright red.
"Whether it is a good thing or a bad thing is something that cannot be determined, and it is only a matter for the world."
"For me, there is nothing good or bad about it, I just feel a little regretful sometimes."
Cong Ren said, finishing the noodle soup in the bowl with a big gulp, and let out a long breath. The umami flavor in the soup was very strong, and even though there was a lot of blood in it, the smell of blood was covered up.
The sword cultivator in white handed the bowl in his hand to the dull noodle shop owner, then stood up, stood in the spring breeze of the town, straightened his white clothes, and then walked calmly along the long street with his sword on his back.
Wang Xiaoer was stunned for a long time before finally coming back to his senses, looking at the sword cultivator who had walked away, and asked loudly.
"What's the regret?"
A line of bright red blood on the stone slabs of the town was like a branch of extremely rich peach blossoms.
The swordsman in white clothes stopped there, then turned his head, tilted his head and looked at the sky, then lowered his head and looked at the noodle shop owner, smiling softly.
"I don't know if there is such delicious noodles outside the human world."
Wang Xiaoer stood there in a daze, holding the noodle bowl in his hand, with mixed feelings in his heart.
For some reason, he suddenly remembered the much younger swordsman in white who had also been eating noodles here for a long time.
The young man looked down at the blood in the bowl, thinking that my noodles would be really delicious.
Why can't we retain many people?
When Wang Xiaoer raised his head again, the sword cultivator in white had already drifted away in the spring breeze.
Wang Xiaoer didn't know if he would come back to eat noodles.
Maybe it will.
Maybe not anymore.
...
Zhang Xiaoyu washed himself as clean as a handful of light noodles.
Some March leaves fell on the white clothes, maybe green onions.
Zhang Xiaoyu felt that he should now resemble a bowl of Yangchun noodles instead of red oil steamed noodles.
If there was an autumn maple tree or sycamore, it might look more like red oil noodles.
Perhaps he had been soaking in the stream for too long. Although the white clothes were a little tattered but very clean, the young man felt that he really looked like a handful of light noodles.
Then he remembered a certain Donghai town in the east. There was a wine shop in the town that used to sell wine but later changed to selling noodles.
Reminds me of such a bowl of rich and delicious noodles.
Then add a lot of chili peppers, stir it a little, pick it out with a chopstick, and you will sweat on your forehead after eating it, it is so refreshing!
Although Zhang Xiaoyu didn't know why he suddenly remembered that bowl of noodles, he felt that since he missed that bowl of noodles so much, the shopkeeper named Wang Xiaoer should also miss him as a eater who was not stingy in praising him.
So the sword cultivator in white stood up from the stream, walked to the bank, and lay down beside a white stream stone on the bank of the stream, sunbathing himself on the stone like a handful of noodles.
When the noodles are held in your hands and waiting to be put into the pot, you must be full of anxiety.
Because it doesn't know whether the person who cooks the noodles is very good at it.
What if the food you cook for yourself tastes terrible?
If your white clothes get dirty, you can put them in water and dry them again.
If the noodles are cooked bad, they will become lumpy after being washed and put into the pot.
Although Zhang Xiaoyu is not a noodle, he is still very worried.
So he decided to take advantage of the warm March sunshine and take a nap first.
When he woke up, his clothes were dried in the sun, so when he sat up, his white clothes were exactly the same as when he was in Nanyi City.
Zhang Xiaoyu lay on the stone and looked at the sky quietly.
The wind blows.
The wind blows.
What is such a swordsman in white thinking?
My sword and white clothes are covered with dust...
Zhang Xiaoyu lay there quietly, looking at the sky, and gradually closed his eyes among the grass clippings flying by the corners of his eyes.
The twenty-six-year-old young man slept peacefully.
All the anxiety and struggle were hidden by the clean white clothes, those streams, those green grasses, those green hills and those spring breezes.
So this sword cultivator, who was sleeping soundly, dreamed of many scenes that had not passed long yet, but were already so far away that they seemed like a previous life.
A young man holding a black umbrella and a wine flask hanging on his waist knocked on a small door covered with ivy with tears in his eyes.
——Senior brother, can you still play cards?
The young man in white smiled sadly.
——No more, junior brother.
The dream is long and sad.
Just like the setting sun.
When Zhang Xiaoyu woke up, the world was already a brilliant golden color, with many leaves of grass blown by the wind falling on his body, and the stream beside him was gurgling and sparkling.
The white-clothed swordsman sat up and turned to look across the stream.
There was a young man holding a black umbrella and holding a sword across his knees. His body was also covered with grass leaves.
It seems like it has been a long time coming.
Not far away, upstream of the stream, there was a young boy holding a sword, standing silently next to the stream of light, looking at it from a distance.
