Zhao Ge: 137. Nine Profound Madness


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Guan Zhiyu and other dead Jiuxuanmen disciples sitting cross-legged in front of the Jingling Platform, facing the Xiangtan Lake with tens of thousands of floating corpses, facing the misty black world of the ghost world. Their appearance hasn't changed much. He Qingchuan is already a middle-aged man, and they are still young and flying youths.

Cultivators pursue longevity, because they are not immortal, but they can age more slowly than ordinary people.

Now Guan Zhiyu and the others will not age anymore.

Their time has been forever frozen in the image of the young generation of energetic immortal cultivation in Guanghan County.

He Qingchuan took off the knife hanging around his waist, and sat down cross-legged behind Guan Zhiyu. He is now taller than Guan Zhiyu, has practiced heavy swordsmanship for many years, and has a strong body. He sat behind Guan Zhiyu, a lot taller than her.

No matter Hezhou, Jun Wanbai and the others, they just listened to the teacher's simple explanations in one or two sentences. The head of Yi Heping's generation also accepted a disciple with a special identity, which is in the true sense. Sister Guan, you can't even imagine what kind of person Guan Zhiyu was.

But He Qingchuan knows.

Guan Zhiyu is their elder sister. When He Qingchuan started, she had already wandered through the rivers and lakes on behalf of the sect with a knife, all year round. It was only three months after He Qingchuan was accepted as an apprentice by the head that he met this unremarkable master sister in the true sense.

At that time, he was practicing swords at the main peak of the dry veins. When he was resting, he found that he was carrying a sword, tying his long hair with a cloth, and a sharp woman leaning on the big tree beside his eyebrows, not knowing he was there. How long have you watched.

The woman didn't wear the robes of the Jiuxuanmen at that time, and the gray robes didn't look like a serious disciple.

"You can't come in here, go out without permission."

At that time, He Qingchuan had just been accepted as a disciple by the head, and he was very contented. In Yi Heping's words, "people can't wait to clean up his meal and teach him what is called etiquette".

"Are you a new apprentice from the head?"

The woman ignored his expulsion, leaning on the tree, looking at him with interest, her eyebrows raised slightly.

She was a little careless, and He Qingchuan had a feeling of not being looked at.

"Hurry out, don't let me do it."

He Qingchuan spoke angrily, flicked his sword and pulled a beautiful sword flower.

"Supple, mother chirp." The woman chuckled and stood up lazily, "Why the old man's vision is so terrible? A little scholar who is so astronomical is boring enough, and he actually came here for a little □ Bucket, not good at ability, but good temper."

Speaking, the woman snapped a branch from the tree and held her hand loosely.

"Come, come, do your hands, let me see your weight."

The woman has a loose smile on her face.

He Qingchuan has learned a set of swordsmanship during this period, and he feels that his strength has greatly increased. He feels a little proud of the spring breeze. Who knows that his swordsmanship has become "soft" and "mummy" in this population. He was so angry that he didn't care about the gentleman's demeanor-even though he actually didn't have such a thing-he started directly.

Boom.

The first time I was stepped on my back and pressed to the ground, I made a muffled noise.

"That's it? Get up."

He Qingchuan got up with flushed face and picked up his sword.

Boom.

There was another muffled noise.

"You look white and clean, and your swordsmanship is so soft. Are you a girl?"

Without her speaking, He Qingchuan grabbed the sword again.

Boom.

"Was the old man's eyes obscured by something?"

Boom.

"Have you eaten yet?"

……

In just half an hour, He Qingchuan's previous definition of "woman" was completely overturned. What kind of gentleness, what grace, what reservedness... There is such a woman in the world, who speaks sharper than a knife, and a mouth is more poisonous than a white warehouse, no matter what "beating people do not face" when they fight. Unwritten customs.

The poison of its mouth and tongue, and its cruelty, is absolutely rare.

He Qingchuan's arrogance of becoming the head of the disciple was quickly wiped out in just half an hour, in contact with the thick soil. After the **** anger passed, He Qingchuan clearly realized that the guy in front of him who used a branch to smash himself on the ground time and time again was a lot higher than himself, and he was completely a cat teasing a mouse.

"Get up?"

The woman squatted down beside him, raised her eyebrows, and poked his cheek with a branch.

"I am not a fool."

He Qingchuan answered weakly.

He is arrogant, and not mindless. What are you doing? Get up and continue to smoke her for fun? And He Qingchuan didn't notice that when the opponent started, he deliberately closed it. Although the identity is unknown, it is not like a bad guy with unknown origin.

"Nothing to do."

The woman threw away the branch, laughed, stood up and drew the knife from her waist.

"Look at it clearly, that's how it works."

A clear rebuke, a knife sound, and then the sky full of knife light.

That set of swordsmanship was used by her with a thin knife. The knife was thin and beautiful, but when she danced in the hands of a woman, she didn't have any grace and grace at all. Her bundled long hair flew up in the wind, and the knife was radiant and mighty.

Like the thunder rolling over the sky and the sea, like the mountain collapsing and wind slamming Tianzhu.

The fallen leaves were rolled up, and the fragile fallen leaves swirled violently, turning them into sharp blades. Every sword light is like falling from the sky.

That set of swordsmanship is called "send".

The sky and the earth are low, the air is square, the thunder is angry, and the world is sinned.

He Qingchuan understood why she said her swordsmanship was "soft" and "mummy chirp".

In the last move, the thin sword flew out of the woman's hand, like a meteor shower, the scorching sun fell, and it slammed down towards He Qingchuan. He Qingchuan's pupils suddenly shrank, and the hairs all over his body stood up. The moment the knife fell, he only felt that he saw a blazing sun falling towards him.

It was terrifying, terrifying.

He Qingchuan rolled around abruptly, even using the strength of the milk, and rolled to the side.

Qiang——

The thin knife was inserted into the ground with a slight difference between He Qingchuan's head, and it didn't reach the handle.

——Fuck you.

A vulgar word stuck in He Qingchuan's throat, almost cursing directly.

The feeling of the scorching sun crashing down and the sword aura enveloped is so terrible that people feel that I have just walked on the line of life and death. He Qingchuan felt that he should take back the judgement that this woman should not look like a bad person. She just wanted to kill him with the knife!

"Do you understand?"

The woman herself is okay, with a casual smile on her face, she walked over and drew her knife.

"I think you are a lunatic..."

He Qingchuan twitched the corners of his mouth, cold sweat on his back.

The woman was taken aback for a moment, and then burst into laughter: "Crazy man? Stupid, what sect do you think you added?"

He Qingchuan was confused by her smile.

What kind of sect? The Nine Profound Gate, the first one in the Eight Sects of the Immortal Gate?

"Hey, don't laugh."

The woman laughed out of breath, and He Qingchuan was so confused by her laugh that he shouted angrily.

"Go out to find out, in the world of cultivating immortals, ten percent of the madmen, where is Jiucheng." The woman laughed and put the knife back in the sheath, she turned and walked towards Biyong Pavilion, "Jiuxuanmen, Come out of some lunatics, Jiu Xuanmen!"

"Who are you?"

He Qingchuan yelled at her back.

"Guan Zhiyu, and..."

The woman turned her head and raised Fengwei's sharp eyebrows.

"Remember to call Sister, don’t be so small or small."

Then that night, the master led Guan Zhiyu to introduce him to this real master sister.

Guan Zhiyu put on the Taoist robe of the Jiuxuanmen at this time. As soon as the master left, she raised a jar of strong wine from Najie and looked at He Qingchuan squintingly: "Junior sister, come and drink with me."

"... Guan, Zhi, Yu!"

He Qingchuan's reluctant "Senior Sister" got stuck in his throat, and he vowed to be incompatible with Guan Zhiyu.

At that time, He Qingchuan was just like what Guan Zhiyu said. He looked pure and white. Apart from being too arrogant, he looked a bit like a son.

"By the way, don't be big or small, just call me Senior Sister."

Guan Zhiyu raised his head and took a sip of wine, and threw a jar of wine to He Qingchuan.

I can't beat and beat, and I can't do anything with anger.

He Qingchuan angrily patted the wine jar open, and opened his mouth. As soon as I got in the mouth, I choked all over—this wine is a burnt knife. Why is this guy's wine so strong?

The consequence of spitting out the wine was that Guan Zhiyu ridiculed him, taking a mouthful of a sister.

Annoyed by the words "Junior Sister" and "Niang Mo Haw", He Qingchuan simply rebuilt the heavy knife and started to go on a big way.

After repairing the heavy sword, although Guan Zhiyu was ridiculed all day long, but the usefulness was not without it. At least Guan Zhiyu looked at his size and felt that he should not insult the word "little white face", so he stopped calling his junior sister. It's-call an idiot instead.

I’m just a fool, I’m better than the younger sister.

In He Qingchuan's first half of life, it was Guan Zhiyu, who always came and went in a hurry. When she returned to the Zongmen with a knife, she sometimes wore grey clothes and sometimes black cloak.

Guan Zhiyu, the words gentle and elegant are not compatible with her.

She is a lunatic with a knife. She will drink on the eaves in the middle of the night, one by one, the alcohol is too strong. After drinking, she throws the wine jar down from the eaves, and one does not fall. Smashed into He Qingchuan's yard. He Qingchuan practiced knives in the yard, and quickly turned off the wine jars one by one as usual.

"Idiot, the right side is lighter."

"Left."

……

Guan Zhiyu is such a person, a lunatic full of chaos, drinking like a desperado, and talking like a street rogue.

Dancing swords when drunk and swigs when awake.

Such an arrogant and powerful person... how could he sit in a place so quietly?


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