Novoland: Eagle Flag Chapter 1: At the beginning of Yunlong [Wedge]

"What's your name?"

"Item empty month."

"From where."

"Far away."

"Why take the long road?"

"I hope I can hold a dustpan and serve Mr.."

"So what if you serve me?"

"I hope I can learn the art of slaying dragons from my husband."

"Then you go back."

The pine branches above the head rattled and rattled, and there was a sudden shock. A large amount of snow scattered into droplets in the air and fell on the young man's messy hair. He stood under the ancient pine, his ragged white clothes were covered with slush, he was as silent as if carved out of ice and snow. In the severe winter of December, the wind on the top of the mountain was like a knife, and could roll up his slightly slender body like a dead leaf at any time, and bury him in the dark valley in front of him. But he had already stood there for a day and a night, and he had no intention of leaving, nor was he afraid.

A crude suspension bridge was erected on the cliffs of the two mountains, crumbling in the new wind. On the opposite side of the hanging bridge, in the lee of Xuefeng, is a single-family thatched cottage yard, the wooden door is half open, and an old man is sitting in front of the door. He sat on a thick felt blanket, with a huge oil umbrella stretched over his head, and a small table with warm wine in front of him.

Both of them said nothing more, the old man raised the tin cup and drank the remaining wine in the cup, then turned around. He didn't stand up, but turned around with his arms propped up, and anyone could see that those limp legs had been broken. In the courtyard, servants covered in black scarves stepped out of the snow, their steps light and light, and they stepped on the snow soundlessly. Two servants supported the old man with the sedan chair, and the third put away the oil umbrella and the table. The courtyard door was slammed shut, and no one looked at the young man again from the beginning to the end, as if he didn't exist at all.

After a long time, the boy raised his head and glanced at the drafty door on the opposite side of the hanging bridge, then sat down and took out the cold and hard bread from his arms, chewed it, and picked up the jar under his feet. The water in the jar had been frozen, so he picked up a stone beside him and smashed it on the ice at the mouth of the jar until a crack was opened. He leaned on the crack and took a sip of ice water, and poured down the scum of the bread, his chest felt cold, as if his blood was cold.

He chewed a few mouthfuls like this, drank a few mouthfuls of water, stood up again, and silently faced the suspension bridge.

The snow fell again, and it was endless. Looking through the crack of the door, his figure was gradually engulfed by twilight and snowflakes.

"The snow will fall even more tonight?" The old man murmured and turned his head.

The attendants knelt silently behind him without making a sound, all dressed in black, like owls in the night. The old man didn't expect them to answer either, he knew these people had no tongues.

"Why haven't you gone back yet?"

"I'm waiting for my husband to change his mind."

"Why should I change my mind? You and I have never known each other. What does it matter to me if you torture yourself?"

"I am sincere."

"You are not the only one who is sincere in the world."

"I am more sincere than them."

The old man smiled, still drinking under the umbrella.

On the morning of the third day, the snow stopped, and the old plum tree in front of the hanging bridge quietly opened, and it was thrillingly red in the silvery white. The old man was sitting on the opposite side of the hanging bridge drinking wine, admiring the plum blossoms from a distance, watching the occasional small reds falling in the wind. Redder than the plum blossoms was the blood of the young man. He stood there with his hands down, wrapped in a strip of cloth, which was torn from his skirt, and the blood seeped out and dyed it red. The mountain wind was cold and dry, and his hands were first swollen, then cracked, covered with blood stains. His handsome face was also swollen, looking a little funny. It's just that the look hasn't changed, his slender eyebrows are covered with snow powder, flying obliquely.

The attendants carried the old man back again, and the young man took out the remaining bread from his bosom, and there were two more.

"Eating one sheet a day can last two days, and eating half a sheet a day can last four days." His voice was so hoarse that even he couldn't distinguish it, so he still pulled his chapped lips and laughed.

There was no water for a long time, he picked up the snow with his **** hands, and swallowed it together with the bread. He chewed vigorously, his numb lips couldn't tell the bread from the ice and snow, they were all like tiny blades.

He stood up again, facing the suspension bridge silently, the sky was getting dark gradually.

"You are so stubborn."

"I beg you to teach me the art of slaying dragons."

"How do you know I have the ability to slay dragons?"

"I have heard about Mr. Mr. I have been looking for Mr.'s whereabouts for a long time."

"Do you know what is the art of dragon slaying?"

"Know."

"Then you think I will teach you?"

"I can wait."

"It won't be long, you are going to die."

The old man raised his hand, and the attendants quietly carried the sedan chair out. This time the old man did not set up an oil umbrella, a small table and warm wine at the door. The weather was getting colder, and the strong wind rushed through the deep valley, like the roar of the Kuafu giant in the northern mountains, and then rolled up. The red plum tree had fallen off, and the petals were covered by layers of snow, leaving only the stumped branches lying there, which looked like ghost claws.

The last half of the bread was eaten, and the belly seemed to be cut inch by inch. The young man sat in the ice and snow and rubbed his legs and arms vigorously. Now he dared not stand still and kept rubbing his hands and feet. He knew that if he didn't knead, his hands and feet might freeze off. He didn't want to be a person without hands and feet, and he would have a long way to go in the future.

He tried hard to smile again to encourage himself, but he suddenly found that he couldn't laugh anymore, his face was convulsed, and the muscles on his cheeks were already dead in the cold wind.

The old man raised his hand, and the attendants in black stopped the sedan chair under the eaves.

"A child who knows too much," the old man raised his head, with a stinging cold light in his only remaining eye, "Kill him!"

No one answered him, and the attendants in black silently carried the sedan chair into the hut.

The sound of the sea returned to his ears, and he heard the high tide rolling up again, like thunder in the distance.

He stretched out his hand hard to touch the warm sea tide, the sea water flowed through his fingers, warm and comfortable. He turned his head sideways and landed on the beach as a pillow, the hermit crab washed up by the waves was blowing bubbles on his back, someone was stroking the top of his head, the familiar laughter was so distant and clear.

"I saw the town of the merman yesterday, and they floated back."

"The leading priest is old, and her body is starting to dry up."

"I'm really scared, will I be the same after many years? But it's so strange, her smile is still the same as when she was young, so happy, as if she doesn't know that she is going to die."

"I want to swim after them. She told me that the ocean current roars through the coral cave in the depths of the sea, which is much stronger than the strongest wind in the sky..."

"Will you come with me?"

Everything is silent.

He opened his eyes, and saw the silver-cold full moon hanging on the top of the old plum tree, half of his body buried in the snow, there was no laughter, only the sound of the wind, no sea water, only the piercing snow. He fell asleep just now, and the young man became frightened. He knew that he would die if he fell asleep. He struggled to get up, but his whole body was already dead, only a trace of the heat in his heart seemed to be left. He lay there on his back and saw the **** birds passing by in the night sky, as if he had taken a fancy to his dead food.

"It's fine if you die like that," he said to himself in his heart, "why wake up again?"

Laughing, he turned his ears away in surprise. It was indeed laughter, but it wasn't the familiar voice in the dream, it was like the night wind passing through the woods, or it was the owl laughing. That kind of weird laughter seemed to come out of someone's chest, going east and west, and I couldn't tell the direction. Laughter, which at first seemed far away, finally gathered around him, and he tried to turn his head to look, but he couldn't see anyone. Fear erupted, and he felt as if he was surrounded by invisible ghosts who wanted to pull his soul and devour him apart.

"I can't die yet! I can't die yet!" He said to himself, desperately trying to move, and there was a kind of exhaustion in his body that made him want to lie down forever.

Several silver arcs of light suddenly flashed in front of his eyes, his heart moved, and he finally saw the person. It was the attendants in black. At this moment, they were all crouching on the ground, like carrion jackals, so it was not easy to find them. They only showed two eyes, but the eyes were not loyal and silent during the day, but full of joy for killing. Those eyes were not human at all. The three attendants curled up and gestured at him with evil knives, as if they wanted to cut him into pieces and eat him.

The young man understands his mistake, he knows too many things, these secrets are revealed, not only this small town deep in the mountains is shaken, but Dong Lu, or the entire Kyushu. If the old man does not accept him as an apprentice, then he can only be killed.

The old man has already made his decision.

The low smiles from the chests of the attendants in black suddenly disappeared, and at the same time, they rushed forward, holding up the evil knife in their hands!

The quiet peak was suddenly filled with a voice, and the knives in the hands of the attendants were also stopped.

It was the boy's roar, and before he was about to die, he roared out with his already stiff throat:

"My name is Xiang Kongyue!"

"I come from far away!"

"I want to serve Mr. Jibroom and learn the art of slaying dragons from him!"

"I can't die! I still have a lot of wishes!"

No one dared to imagine that this dead person could make such a sound, it was simply roaring. No one knew what the young man was trying to express by saying these words at the end. He ignored those evil knives at all, but just stared at the sky with wide eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks on both sides.

The silence.

The attendants exchanged glances, and the boy named Xiang Kongyue had lost his voice. The leaky wood door was pushed open vigorously, creaking and creaking, and the old man sat quietly inside the door.

"What's your name?"

"Item empty month."

"From where?"

"Far away."

"Why take the long road?"

"I hope I can hold a dustpan and serve Mr.."

"So what if you serve me?"

"I hope I can learn the art of slaying dragons from my husband."

"Then, come with me!"

When the attendants in black carried Xiang Kongyue in a palanquin and walked into the door, the old man looked at him silently, Xiang Kongyue only looked at him, and he was speechless.

"I really want to kill you, but you are right, you are more sincere than others. Then you are the one I am waiting for. I have been waiting for you for many years!"

[Zhengjuangexingzhe]