Chapter 107 The First Battle of Life

The small building in the lake is hidden under the bamboo wall. Under the middle-aged tea artist is a stone chair made of Kunhu stone, and in front of him is a tea table made of Kunhu stone. There is an ebony tea case on the table and a warm and smooth one on the table. There is a bright teapot and tea cup next to the table. A small hand-held charcoal stove is oozing out of the kettle nozzle on the stove, and it is not boiling yet.

On such a hot summer night, the middle-aged tea artist seemed to be unable to feel the heat brought by the small charcoal furnace. He was wearing a single dress, as calm as a guest host waiting for the returnee on a winter snowy night... He was Yan Suqing.

Ning Que confirmed this very well. The vigilance that he had previously felt outside the Linhu Xiaozhu was finally confirmed at this moment because the other party realized that he was coming in advance and had already noticed his purpose.

He looked at the tea residue under the bamboo wall with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he looked at the tea artist in the chair and asked, "Then just be more straight... I want to know the case of General Xuanwei's mansion being killed by the whole family. There is also the case of the slaughter in Yanbian Mountain Village. Is it related to you?"

Yan Suqing frowned slightly, not expecting that the boy who came to kill him tonight was because of those two things many years ago. He thought no one in this world still remembered the old things, and after a silence, he smiled and said, "Of course it has something to do with me, otherwise how could I, an official with a promising future in the military headquarters, become a tea merchant now A tea artist who guards the house?"

"I should not be the first person you have found." He looked at Ning Que and asked, "How are the other people living now? I haven't seen each other for many years, and I don't know what they are doing now."

Ning Que observed the movements around Linhu Xiaozhu silently, looking at this precious residence, and replied, "They are not doing well, at least not as good as you, and they can live in such a good place."

Yan Suqing laughed out loud, shook her head and said with emotion, "I know why they are not doing well, but can I still live a good life? Because I am a person who is still useful to the empire."

The clothes that were wrapped around her body, the water that had not boiled on the small charcoal stove, and the tea cup without tea in her left hand all meant that the tea artist had just woken up and probably just noticed that Ning Que was approaching Linhu Xiaozhu, so he got up. It wasn't about presuming some ambush in advance.

Why did a tea artist who looks thin and powerless and deal with tea sets and springs all day long, without calling for help or running away, but sitting in a chair and waiting so calmly when he knew someone was coming to kill him? What is his dependence on? And what use can a tea artist do to the empire? How can a tea artist keep a guard for a tea merchant? How can a tea artist have a better retirement life than Chen Zixian?

In a blink of an eye, Ning Que thought about many possibilities, even the most unlikely possibility. An unprecedented solemn expression appeared between Qingzhi's eyebrows and eyes outside the mask. He looked at the other party and asked, "Why didn't you escape?"

"Why do you want to escape?"

Yan Suqing looked at the boy with a smile and said, "Since I am awake, how could you kill me?"

After saying this, he gently brushed his sleeves, and a small dark sword without a handle appeared on the tea table on the stone table.

Ning Que's brows frowned, his body became a little stiff, knowing that he had encountered the most unlikely possibility: this thin and powerless tea artist... was actually a practitioner!

At this moment, he couldn't help but think of the conversation he had with Mr. Lu Qingchen during his journey, about the conversation about the swordsman in Chang'an City walking all over the ground.

At that time, the old man Lu Qingchen laughed and said that this argument was definitely too exaggerated. After entering Chang'an City, Ning Que had seen practitioners from the South Gate of Haotian Dao who were casting spells on the side of the road, and followed Xiaoshu to fight with practitioners at the Chunfeng Pavilion, but I really didn't expect that a name on the revenge list that looks extremely inconspicuous was actually a strong man in that world.

There was no Zhuoer's information, and Sangsang did not notice it. No one could have imagined that the documentary appraiser of the former military headquarters, the tea art master who is now supported by tea merchants, was actually a practitioner who was proficient in sword control!

Ning Que's frowning eyebrows slowly stretched out. He looked at Yan Suqing in the chair, looked at the handleless small sword in front of the thin middle-aged man, and said with a gentle smile: "Since you don't run away, I'll run away."

He ran away as soon as he finished speaking. As soon as he finished speaking, he turned around without hesitation and rushed out of Linhu Xiaozhu like a running horse.

Yan Suqing was extremely interested in looking at the back of the boy who was about to disappear by the bamboo wall, and chuckled and shook his head and sighed: "Since I'm here to kill a cultivator, can I still retreat when I come?"

The words gentle but strong confidence and murderous intent slowly emerged from the lips of the thin middle-aged man. At the same time, he put down the thick teacup held by his left hand, rolled up the cuff on his left arm with his right hand, and ate two fingers in his left hand. He also made a sword technique and went slanted towards the air point outside the small building in Linhu, with extremely casual movements.

With a slanted finger, the little dark and light-free handleless sword on the stone table tea table suddenly buzzed low, as if it was filled with some magical energy, and suddenly bounced from the table. It turned into a dark trace of light, tearing open the darkest night before dawn of the lake, and stabbed outside the yard.

Ning Que's back felt a pain like a needle-like pain. His eyebrows and eyes exposed outside the mask could not see any panic. He could only calmness and calmness. He was about to rush out of the sea of ​​bamboo, but unexpectedly stepped on the ground with his left foot. The whole person's body flipped up, and then his right foot stepped onto the thick Nanzhu like lightning.

Throw! Throw! Throw! Throw!

The solid soles quickly stepped on the bamboo, and the climbing bamboo tree shaking, and countless bamboo leaves fell like broken feather arrows. He stepped on the bamboo tree and climbed onto the courtyard wall in an instant, avoiding it dangerously. The sword light that came through the yard was then slightly bent and swung his knees, and he swung quickly into the yard with the oscillation of the bamboo tree.

With a shiny sound, the body like an arrow just passed through the courtyard wall. The sharp Park Dao was already out of the sheath and cracked in his hand. Ning Que groaned, exerting force on his waist and abdomen and flipped his wrists. Park Dao Youruo Yuxue looked at him with a head-on and snow. Yan Suqing slashed over!

Since he knew that this tea art master was a powerful practitioner, he knew that he would face the terrifying test of life and death again tonight. He knew that his current strength was not enough to fight against a powerful practitioner in the world of cultivation, but he still did not I thought about retreating because he knew that facing a practitioner, retreating means death.

At the Beishan Road intersection, he saw how Peng Yutao, the most elite guards of the Tang Dynasty, fought with a great sword master with his iron-blooded will and discipline. Outside the Chunfeng Pavilion, he saw how Chao Xiaoshu relied on himself He killed two powerful and powerful cultivators from foreign countries, and he learned some experience from this, that is, he can only advance but not retreat when facing practitioners, and this experience may allow him to escape death.

So at the beginning his retreat was not a retreat.

Instead, retreat to advance.

Then kill people.

Ding's crisp sound!

Ning Que twisted his body and waved his sword, slashed the dark sword light that flew behind him, and his body fell from mid-air.

Meeting on the first day of the first day, a gap of rice grains appeared at the edge of the knife, and a very slight break was added above his shabby cloth robe. However, his eyebrows and eyes outside his mask were still not afraid, and his legs were as dead as two nails. He was stuck on the ground, holding Park's long handle tightly with both hands, lowering his head slightly and observing the movements in the night vigilantly.

Suddenly, he flipped his sword in his hand, and used the price of a blood mark on his left shoulder to avoid the sword light that came from the night on his right. At the same time, he realized that his blade had at least been wiped. Flying sword.

Ning Que still lowered his head slightly, staring at Yan Suqing in the chair not far away, listening carefully to the slight buzzing sounds from time to time in the night around the lake, trying to determine the position of the flying sword. .

He took a step forward.

A falling bamboo leaves outside the yard were torn in half by invisible force.

He fell back like a mountain, and the dark sword shadow brushed his shoulders and flew into the air.

He slapped the ground with his right hand, tightened his waist and abdomen, and the mountain stood up again, his feet connected like lightning. The gray sword shadow pierced into the crack of the stone slab in front of his feet, and then quickly buzzed and flew again. Disappear without a trace.

His position at this time was three steps back than before.

The small oil lamp on the right side of the tea table was shining with a faint glow, and Yan Suqing sat in the stone chair for a while, smiling.

The two of them were only a few steps apart, but the night was so insurmountable.

Because no one knows where the dark sword shadow is in the night.

Holding the long knife handle with both hands, and steadily stepping on the stone slab, without slashing or protrusions, ensuring that all the power of the earth can be borrowed at any time. Ning Que stared at the chair like a statue. Tea artist, there is no fear in his eyes, only peace and concentration.

This was the first time in his life that he fought alone with a practitioner. He knew he had no chance and knew that he was very likely to die tonight, so of course he was afraid.

But he was tortured by life and death too many times. Ning Que knew very well that at this time, fear was the most useless emotion. He could only turn fear and tension into excitement, and he could turn the word life and death over.

The flying sword buzzed and lightning pierced. He swung his sword and slashed. Even if he cut the sky, he would avoid the key parts at the last moment with the combat instinct and strong physical control ability polished on the battlefield.

Ding ding ding ding ding! The sword was like a flying sword like snow. Countless dense holes were cut by the sword shadow. Blood penetrated his underwear and oozed out of the shabby outer robe, and began to drip on the surface of his body, like a bloody man.

But Ning Que still held Park Knife with both hands, his feet stuck on the stone slab like nails, his eyes were staring at the strong man in the chair, without panic, without fear, and even the fanaticism he should have when he fought desperately No.

"Soldiers who came back from the frontier?"

Yan Suqing gradually smiled and looked at the bloody boy not far away in front of him and said calmly: "There were no fourteen consecutive swords that could kill you directly, leaving only some small wounds for you. Only the frontier soldiers had this kind of physical instinct. But I must remind you that even if the wound is small and the blood flows slowly, it will die after a long time."

"I understand, so I will try to find a chance to cut off your head before the blood flows dry." Ning Que replied.

"You won't have such a chance." Yan Suqing looked at Ning Que sympathetically and shook her head.

At this time, the water on the small charcoal furnace finally began to boil, and a hot mist of water squirted out of the spout.

The tea artist lifted the kettle on the stove with his left hand and poured it into the crude tea cup. He looked at the tea leaves that were constantly floating by boiling water, and lowered his head and said, "I want to start drinking morning tea, so I won't play with you."

(There is another chapter, which is being written.)