Chapter 1629: Recalling the Glorious Days of the Past, I Am Now Flying with My Sword

Chapter 1633 Recalling the magnificent days, I am now flying my sword

The night swallowed up the last ray of sunset in the sky.

The beasts in the forest opened their eyes in the night and were about to start hunting. They heard fierce roars from afar.

The storyteller stood aside and looked at his brother who was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside him nervously, and shouted:

"You are hiding your sword!"

"It's okay, just a little exercise."

After saying this, Ba Zun closed his eyes, his breath was exhausted, and he turned into a large stone that could be seen casually in this forest.

"What did Kui Leihan tell you!"

The storyteller was anxious, "No matter how important they are, they are not as important as you. You have been hiding your sword for so many years, how can you break your skills for them?"

What answered him was the tranquility of the forest and the imperceptible footsteps of the beasts in the forest approaching quietly.

"Who is more important, Xu Xiaoshou, or are you?" The storyteller stopped kicking his brother to interrupt his current thoughts.

The latter still did not respond.

"Will you hurt yourself?"

His tone softened, and he squatted down beside Ba Zun'an, "If something happens to you, I can't explain to Sister Yue."

Playing the lute to a cow.

The storyteller's eyebrows jumped again and again, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. Thirty years of resentment poured out on this night:

"Okay, okay, okay!"

"You are the only smart ones, and we are mortals, a burden!"

"No one said anything, and if you said it, you wouldn't understand, and if you understood it, you couldn't do it. If you can't do it, it's better not to ask, right?"

"You are like this! Wen Ting is like this too! We Taixu are all trash, and you are the only ones who practice swords so high... I'm too lazy to protect you!"

He stood up angrily, threw his skirt and left, and was about to jump off the cliff, leaving Ba Zun'an to starve to death in this forest.

No, there is no need to starve to death so slowly.

He will soon be eaten by wild beasts.

"Alas."

Ba Zun'an sighed softly, and had to break his state of mind. He opened his eyes and said, "Come back."

"Hey."

The storyteller came back happily and lay beside his brother, holding his cheeks, his eyes shining, "Tell me quickly!"

"Sealing the sword is not hiding the sword, and the two are not so absolute. It's just that the sword practitioners are crazy and think that they must never draw the sword when hiding the sword... Didn't I also draw a sword in the Eight Palaces?"

"Yeah."

"I won't get hurt."

"Yeah."

"..."

"What else?"

The storyteller saw that he stopped after saying two sentences, and suddenly became anxious, "How can the Eight Palaces be compared with the ruins of the beheading priest? You are now going through the starry sky and going to another plane!"

Ba Zun'an shook his head lightly, without saying much, picked up a stone, and flicked it out from between his index and middle fingers.

The storyteller's eyes quickly followed.

"Pah."

The stone drew an arc that was not very elegant, and fell weakly a few feet away. After rolling a few times, it stopped in front of the big stone.

"Understand?"

Ba Zun'an boasted that his explanation was perfect, and immediately closed his eyes and entered into meditation again.

What is what is what...

The storyteller widened his eyes, and three wisps of smoke came out of his head. He racked his brains but couldn't figure out what his brother wanted to say.

"What are you pretending to be!"

"Can't you just say what you want to say!"

He moved his hands viciously, pulling open Ba Zun'an's eyelids, and almost dug out the two eyeballs that were rolling around helplessly.

"Quenching." Lao Ba said helplessly, and then stopped the storyteller's violence.

"What quenching?"

"Cao Yihan said that the last step of iron forging is not to lift the sword blank to the enemy for direct combat, but also requires a quenching and condensing process."

So the Ranming Ruins is the last basin of quenching water, and you have to go there to complete the "condensation"?

But water is everywhere, why choose the Ranming Ruins basin?

Oh, I see, this basin must be the best.

The storyteller has some brain-filled understanding. After thinking about it, he looked at the stone not far away and pointed out the last confusion: "What does this have to do with the stone?"

"Seal the sword until old, and I will become a saint when I grow old."

"I am here, and I will quench it with my mind. After completing the last process of this sword, I can put the sword back into the box and be ready to go."

Send?

Sent to whom?

The storyteller's expression tightened. He was very good at capturing the key points of his brother's life and death. "You want to fight Hua...him?"

Ba Zun'an: "There must be a battle."

The storyteller was silent. He was not pessimistic about his brother, but he still thought the time was not right.

Hua Changdeng is always one step ahead.

Hua Changdeng is always ahead.

Hua Changdeng has been crowned as the Sword Saint Emperor, and has obtained the real power and resources of the highest authority of the five Saint Emperor families. He can no longer be measured by a single "Sword Saint Emperor"...

When it comes to Hua Changdeng, storytellers are all afraid, all powerless, and all have a perfect personality with natural talent, resources, background, and a superb character - if the Eight Lords were not surnamed Ba, but the surnames of the five Saint Emperor families.

Rao Yaoyao, who lived in the same period, heard that he was only three days behind Hua Changdeng in sword cultivation, so he spent thirty years to catch up.

As a result, the gap did not narrow, one was in heaven and the other was on earth.

On the other hand, Ba Zun An.

He had hidden his sword for thirty years, but was left behind for thirty years. I think he was already far behind...

To be honest, outsiders may still remember the glorious appearance of the "Eighth Sword Immortal".

The storyteller had long forgotten the high-spirited appearance of his brother. In his mind, all these years, there were only trivial things from life.

For example, he needed a cane to travel, needed support to fly, caught a cold in the wind, and coughed and bleed occasionally...

To put it bluntly.

There is no filial son in front of a long-term sick bed.

When friends who had not met for many years met again, seeing his brother's current situation, everyone could show some concern.

The one who could really take care of such a useless person for more than 30 years and even give up his bright future because of that worship to the heaven and earth...

Your slaves have all abandoned you.

And your me is still by your side.

The storyteller felt that if his brother woke up one day and called him "Godfather", it would be what he deserved!

And this guy, whose highlight moment was almost completely blurred in memory, said that he only needed this last step of quenching to be able to shine again.

The storyteller's first reaction was not happiness. What he thought of was what most people call "last glimmer of light".

"Do you know about the revolving lantern?"

"Have you dreamed of the past when you slept recently?"

"Do you feel depressed occasionally when you see the moon and start to imagine the beauty of the future, with Sister Yue, Wen Ting, others, and everyone?" The storyteller asked casually.

Ba Zun An didn't know where this person's thoughts had gone, and pointed to the stone.

The storyteller was thinking: "By the way, you haven't said it yet, what is the relationship between quenching and this stone?"

"From here to there."

"What do you mean?"

"So simple."

"Uh..." The storyteller was speechless for a moment, staring at the distance of more than ten feet, then looking back at his brother, and realized that he didn't want to say more, and was making up words to evade himself.

He was about to get angry and wake this guy up, telling him not to dream anymore - from the Holy Land to the Ranming Ruins, how could it be so simple?

He didn't move yet.

But Ba Zun'an had closed his eyes.

This time, he was no longer silent.

Facing the cool night breeze and the bleak forest, he opened his lips and teeth, as if he had taken out all the strength left in his body, and chanted loudly:

"Half a lifetime of loneliness, the autumn cicada misses summer."

"Recalling the past, the sky is pouring down."

The forest was dead silent, and the murmurs faded away with the night wind, but they couldn't go far at all.

There was no sword chanting.

No flowing light.

Only the rustling of branches echoed, dispelling the slight embarrassment that might have been caused by the abrupt words if there were outsiders present.

The storyteller pursed his trembling lips, and his nose felt slightly sour.

He heard his brother's recollection of the past glorious years and his desire for the sword.

But...

The moon that belonged to the ancient sword cultivator has gone to someone else's head, no longer focusing on him alone.

The guy who moved the world with a sound and made all things follow with a sword did not return to his glory just because he chanted a few words at this moment.

Let's go.

Let's go down the mountain.

What happens to other people is none of my business, let's go home.

The storyteller wiped his eyes, stood up and was about to go forward and pull his brother home, but he didn't expect that after the Eight Masters paused...

"Boom!"

The whole mountain forest was suddenly shaken.

An unknown force descended from the sky, slicing off the leaves on the branches and the flowers on the edges of the leaves.

The beasts in the forest that came quietly because of the sound, either hit the ground with a bang or died with broken bones.

The storyteller was about to take a step forward, but he knelt in front of his brother and knocked his head, causing his forehead and nose to bleed.

"???"

He was completely defenseless and stunned.

After struggling to raise his head under the heavy pressure, his ears felt like being pierced by a needle, and he only heard a melodious sword sound that made people dizzy!

"The song in the box is moving, now I am at peace with myself."

"Riding the shadow under the moon, a sword flies flowers."

Swish!

A thought rose with the wind, carrying the leaves on the branches.

In the blink of an eye, the light and shadow crossed the mountain stream and the sky, turned into a black dot under the moonlight, and then disappeared.

Bang.

Ba Zun'an seemed to have died, his body softened, and he fell to the ground, his head bleeding from the broken stones.

"Ah!"

The storyteller screamed, and after realizing that the momentum was gone, he hurried forward to help him up:

"Brother, brother, what's wrong with you! How can you die?"

"Why? Why bother to die in front of others for this face? Others will laugh at you, but they won't laugh at you..."

He paused as he spoke, and stretched out his green jade finger to feel his brother's breath.

Eh?

Still breathing?

The storyteller's eyes lit up, and he thought of "quenching the fire with thoughts", and quickly turned his head to glance behind him.

The moonlight in the mountains, the sound of swords no longer, the wind lifted the flowers.

The unknown dark purple petals swayed and fell, breaking the flowing light, making people lose their minds.

"A sword flying flowers..."

The storyteller finally heard an explanation, and he really couldn't understand it.

He stared into the distance, muttering incoherently:

"He, still went..."

...

That night.

The people who were sleeping in the South Region did not notice that flowers were blooming, and the fragrance came from their dreams.

The flowers were carried by the wind, rising from the South Region, lost in the South Sea, and soon landed in the East Region, tossing around the roads and fields, and the fragrance was sent to the sword tomb.

"Buzz!"

Sword tomb, sword washing pool

Qingju suddenly seemed to be insane, shaking violently, like a hungry dog ​​for thirty years smelling the smell of hot fresh black pork buns.

"Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!"

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

It struggled desperately.

It cried desperately.

It tried to break through the blockade of the sword washing pool, break through the resentment of the 100,000 broken swords in the sword tomb, break through the rules of this place and come out again.

It failed.

Even though it was Qingju with the glory of the sky pouring down.

Today, it is just a broken sword with rust and moss, and it has been abandoned for a long, long time.

"Woo woo woo..."

It cried helplessly.

It was a big dream, and it was empty when it woke up.

It had this dream countless times in the past thirty years.

...

On the top of Tianshan Mountain, beside the sisal.

"What are you doing!"

"Did I steal your family's heirloom? Why are you chasing me like this? Are you sick?"

Wen Ting was still controlling his consciousness to run and retreat wildly.

Suddenly, his main body's pupils trembled, and he regained his consciousness and tilted his head in disbelief.

People?

It's not an illusion!

For more than 30 years, there was a illusory and otherworldly figure in the void at the top of Tianshan Mountain, which no one except himself could climb to the top.

He looked only in his early twenties, with a pine-shaped crane bone, sword-like eyebrows and star-like eyes, his hands behind his waist, his aura swallowing the universe, his eight-foot-tall body reaching the sky, and his white robe like a banished immortal.

This person...

This person!!

Wen Ting's face turned pale and changed again and again.

After rubbing his eyes, he still couldn't accept the appearance of the figure in front of him.

He suddenly bent his waist as if he had a seizure, shook his upper body left and right twice, then stood up again, and pecked his head left and right and up and down like a woodpecker. Finally, he covered his chest with his hands, and pushed his breath into his chest, and said in a choked voice:

"Ahhh~ My wife~"

This was so shocking that even a few random songs could not stop it.

"Shut up."

The white-robed figure's face darkened.

Wen Ting was like a chatterbox that was suddenly opened, and it was filled with a flood that could not be stopped:

"Are you Ba Zun'an?"

"Why are you so young?"

"Who taught you the anti-aging technique? Well, you practiced this secretly behind my back, right..."

"Aren't you useless? Where are your fingers? Let me see!"

"Ah! Ten fingers, you are not Ba Zun'an... Hey! Who is this monster, pretending to be a ghost, showing off your true form... Auntie~"

Wen Ting touched the sisal, flicked his sleeves, and drew a stream of light from behind, ready to cut in the air.

"I don't have time to talk nonsense with you."

Ba Zun'an did not move, turned his eyes and glanced into the distance:

"I just sensed the fluctuations of Guanjian Dian, and I could have gone directly there, but the boy suddenly lost contact..."

"Help me cross the starry sky, just start the sword, and when the distance is a little closer, I can find him by myself."

Wen Ting folded his hands on his chest and remained silent.

Wen Ting looked around without saying a word.

Wen Ting suddenly burst into laughter, "Hahahaha" sounded continuously, and suddenly he spread his legs, stretched his hands horizontally, and made a "big" gesture:

"You!"

His arms quickly moved upwards, drawing two semicircles, and finally joined at a point above his head:

"Please!"

His legs were retracted, his hands split diagonally downwards, and he threw away the long sleeves on both sides:

"Me!"

The sleeves were rolled up at the wrists, his hands were on his waist, and his chin was raised:

"Ah~"

After hearing this sentence, Ba Zun'an's mouth twitched slightly, his eyelids twitched wildly, and he turned around and was about to leave.

But he really couldn't bear it anymore, so he turned around and said:

"I told you long ago that people can't stay at home for too long, let alone stay in the same place for 30 years, or they will get sick."

Wen Ting laughed wildly: "Am I sick? Am I sick?"

"Ba Zun'an, you must have been kicked in the head by a donkey. I asked someone to do something for you, and you called me sick first? Hahahaha, who is sick?"

"Huh? You tell me! Who is sick?" His expression became serious.

Ba Zun'an: "I'm sick."

After saying that, he turned around and walked away.

"Stop!"

Wen Ting spread his legs, swung his sleeves, and took out a piece of paper and a pen from nowhere:

"Write!"

"Write that you invited me!"

"Sign it Ba Zun'an..."

"No! Don't sign it with your crappy name, write 'Moon Palace Slave'!"

"Hurry up! No one else can help you with this. The old Taoist priest is already chasing me. If they delay any longer, they will surely die!"

Ba Zun'an took a deep breath, used his fingers as a pen, and his thoughts as ink, and quickly imprinted his mark on the paper.

Wen Ting grabbed the paper and blew it.

With a hiss, the sword thoughts on it were blown away.

The silver words turned black, and he carefully hid the note.

"Sword thoughts?" Wen Ting pointed at the translucent Ba Zun'an.

Ba Zun'an shook his head.

"Sword Elephant?"

He shook his head again.

"Heavenly Solution·Sword Elephant?"

Still shook his head.

"Speak or not!" Wen Ting looked like he was going to default on his debt if you didn't speak.

"Sword I."

With just two simple words, Wen Ting's pupils widened, as if he saw the self after the Great Dao removed its embellishments and returned to its original simplicity.

The Tianshan Mountains in front of him began to change...

The white snow was gone, and the four seasons returned;

The lush green was gone, and the mountains became bald again;

The sand and rocks were gone, and the high tides rose;

The tides were gone,...

"Wake up!"

Ba Zun An flicked his fingers in the air, and Wen Ting staggered back two steps, waking up from a dream.

"I don't have time to enlighten you, send me over."

Damn it...

You really deserve to die...

Sword I, what is "Sword I"...

Wen Ting lowered his eyebrows and glared, his eyes were bloodshot, and his throat rolled like a beast, and he almost bit his back teeth to pieces before he could hold back from showing his jealousy.

"Don't you want to take a look at it?" He lowered his head and looked in the direction of the sword washing pool.

"No need."

Ouch, no~no~

If you say two more words, you will die, right!

With his heart twisted, Wen Ting turned around after waving his sleeves, which he thought was a breeze and cloudless. The corners of his mouth and eyes twitched wildly and uncontrollably.

He quickly restrained his expression, patted Jianma lightly, and said lightly: "Jianma, send him off."

"Ying..."

Jianma made a sword sound that had not been heard for thirty years, which was extremely pleasant and lost its high and cold temperament.

The sword light shot out, carrying the eight swords of An, and swept into the starry sky.

Wen Tingmu was in the wind and snow.

"Ah——"

After an unknown period of time, an uncontrolled scream sounded on the top of Tianshan Mountain:

"Jianma!"

"Tell me!"

"Why do you make such a disgusting sound, why?!"