[seven]
Cangzhu Mountain is cool and cool all year round, and bamboo mats are only used for a few days in Fushu. I laid on the bed, closed my eyes at night, and my consciousness sank slowly, as if immersed in a dark well. Sometimes I vaguely feel that he is still by my side.
I'm not doing well in the side door. I heard that the Eight Suffering Sect has grown into a colossus, which cannot be easily shaken. What's even more frightening is that I found that their reputation in the world is not as bad as what the master said, and even the martial arts conference invited them as guests.
I wanted to go to the martial arts conference with me, but my seniors laughed at me and said, "It's not your turn."
Back then, I was brought back halfway by the master, and I had no roots, so I was pushed out as soon as I showed up, and I would be taken away from a portion of the dishes served at meals. Master originally called me a genius, but later he may have found that I was mediocre, so he stopped cultivating me.
He mentioned Gu Jiu to me twice intentionally or unintentionally, but I pretended to be ignorant and never mentioned the whereabouts of the stripper. This is what I promised the stripper.
I also asked him when he could help me avenge him. I was fooled a few times and gradually understood.
Once in the village, my fist was harder than anyone else, and I stood firm by brute force. But now that I expend thousands of times of effort and practice martial arts and poisoning every day, but I still can't beat them, my thinking has gradually changed.
Instead of bumping fists with people, let those fists work for me. Day after day, I watched their interactions and words and deeds with cold eyes, and gradually learned to play tricks on people's hearts. From surviving in the cracks to forming cliques, I have taught myself everything that the bamboo craftsman never taught me.
There must be a small number of wizards in this vast arena, and the skills of the vast majority of people are just little by little. If I can catch up with them every year, maybe I can catch up with them in ten years, and I can have a small reputation in twenty years. Coupled with good karma, I can cultivate my own power. Who said thirty years later? I can't be the master
People's hearts have changed very quickly. Originally, there was only a bright blade hanging, but now there are many gullies, and the blade is hidden deep.
From here to home and back for a few days, I can't ask for leave unless it's urgent. Besides, if you want to go home, the master will always ask one more question, since my parents are dead, who is the parent I am visiting. I didn't go back very much, only sent many letters for the bamboo craftsman.
In the first two years, I talked about some things on my mind, and in the next year I only talked about trivial matters. In the end, I didn't mention anything and just wrote two words: peace.
So many letters, never heard back. I just let it go, I just often bring some good medicinal materials to him, and if he doesn't need it, he can sell it for money.
On my twentieth birthday, my master said that on this day, literati have to perform crown ceremonies and invite people to pick up their characters, but we are not literati, and we don’t want to fix those fake ones. It’s better to have a drink after offering sacrifices to the ancestors of heaven and earth. Everyone is happy to have wine and drink, and the banquet is very lively. I exchanged cups with others, laughing and joking, and my mind drifted far away unconsciously. If anyone can pick out characters for me, it should only be a bamboo craftsman.
I thought about taking my leave until New Year's Eve, and seeing him no matter what. Who would have thought that this side could not be met, because I was finally taken to participate in an unprecedented martial arts conference.
All the famous and decent sects gathered together to report the evil deeds of the Baku sect. Those group of people have expanded their territory over the years, seized business everywhere, acted arrogantly without restraint, and made more and more problems, finally touching the bottom line of the entire arena.
When it was the turn of the side door, the head of the door pushed me in front of others, and said sadly: "Both my parents were lost at the hands of the Eight Suffering Sect. He was only seven years old at the time, and he watched those thugs burn down the house..." The famous door The decent people were excited, and they all shouted to join forces to crusade against the thugs and uphold justice.
Among the crowd, Master stroked his long beard and patted me on the shoulder: "This time it depends on your performance."
Before I leave, I want to write a letter to the bamboo craftsman. I haven't written for a long time. When I really want to pick up a pen, I feel that I have no ink in my chest and don't know where to start. I dryly wrote: "This trip is dangerous. If you can survive, you must return home. If you can't, you should entrust Mengmeng Jun. Say goodbye for a few years..."
I scratched my head and scratched my head when I wrote this, and searched through the collection of books borrowed by the master. At the end, I copied the next sentence: "I am so grateful." I think it must mean missing.
After my letter was sent, he brought a package of food. Reluctantly, I rummaged through it, but didn't find a single word, but found a short dagger from underneath.
It just lay in a pile of snacks so casually that no one could guess its great name.
I've heard people say that Gu Jiu used to have a dagger that never left his body. Its brilliance was like water, and it cut iron like mud. It was called the Spring Wind Ci Pen.
He Xun is getting old now.
[Eight]
This battle has lasted for many years, and the vitality of the entire martial arts world has been severely damaged.
I stood between my brothers and sisters, staring at the collapsed gate in front of me. There was a flame burning inside the door, and black smoke shot straight into the sky.
This is not the branch that killed my parents that year. The Righteous Path Alliance is very face-saving, and sent sidemen to wipe out the remnants of the headquarters together. At the last moment, several sects that still have masters in charge rushed in to fight the front line, and we were responsible for blocking the side door to prevent any fish from slipping through the net.
A junior brother took me to comfort me and said: "The villain is going to die today, senior brother, you can kill your enemy with your own hands." I kept silent and clenched the dagger in my hand. It accompanies me all the way, and I feed it the blood of killing people all the way, and it shines brighter and brighter.
There were bursts of howling ghosts and wolves in the flames, and people from the Eight Suffering Sect kept running out with their crimson clothes still on fire. We blocked the door, we didn't pay attention to our moves, and wiped out the remnants of the party like melons and vegetables. A few people still wanted to resist, but my brothers and I stabbed them with a poisoned chaotic sword, their complexions turned black immediately, there was a dying gurgling sound from their throats, and their limbs twisted and fell to the ground, like strange dolls .
I was so red-eyed that I held up the dagger and wanted to rush in, but was dragged back and shouted: "It's too dangerous inside, you can't beat it!"
I had no choice but to stab those defeated soldiers instead, white in and red out, bringing out a twitching intestine. The poisonous blood splashed on my face, making me crouch to the side and retch.
The Eight Suffering Gates, which I have not shaken for more than ten years, were thwarted into powder this night.
After all sects and sects stepped on the ruins and distributed the spoils of the cult, I asked Master for leave and wanted to go back to worship my ancestors. The master agreed, and said again: "You have made great achievements this time, and the head of the sect has seen it." I couldn't see his thoughts, so I quickly apologized and said: "Thanks to the master who is in command."
Master patted me on the shoulder, and said meaningfully: "That dagger is pretty good."
…
I was a little wary, and took a long way back to the small town where I lived with my parents when I was young. A new house was built next to the former site of the house. I knocked on the door and asked where the ruins were cleaned up.
I lost a lot of smiles, but he couldn't tell why, and finally pointed in the direction: "Maybe it's in that forest." I spent money to find someone to erect a stone tablet in that forest, engraved with my parents. The name, offering wine and meat.
The bamboo craftsmen still live in the same village, in the same house. I sat at the table and looked around. I couldn't find the feeling of going home. I just felt that it was cramped and dim, and the lights were like beans, which were about to be annihilated in the dust.
The bamboo craftsman is no longer young, and gray hair grew early on his sideburns, which is completely different from what he remembered. I can hardly see the fairy-like shadow from his body. He has worked hard for half his life, and his hands are not working well, and the things he can create every month are getting less and less.
I asked him, "Why never write back?"
He said, "I can't read."
I'm tongue-tied. I grew up with him, and I've lived to this day, and I've never discovered this. You can't blame me for being slow, he really doesn't look like an illiterate person.
I told him an interesting story: "That year when I crowned myself, the master said that literati must take a character, so I hoped that you would take it for me. Later I got your dagger, I like it very much, but I still want a character... I haven't read a book, so after much deliberation, I took one for myself, Gu Zhi. I also followed your Gu Zhi."
The bamboo craftsman said: "Now the great revenge has been avenged?"
I said: "Yes."
He said, "Have you made your wish?"
I bowed my head and said: "Yeah. But I can't come back. Now the master and the head of the sect value me very much, and explained the meaning of cultivation. There are still many seniors who have favored me, but I haven't repaid them one by one. Also, the Eight Suffering Sect I met a lot of rising stars in the first battle, it is a good time to cultivate power... "
I muttered like this, but he smiled and said: "Come back? I knew the day you left that you will never come back in this life, and you are destined to die in the rivers and lakes."
…
I couldn't help mentioning again: "Come with me. This is not your hometown anyway. Cangzhu Mountain... the scenery is pretty good, but it's a little colder in winter and more comfortable in summer. If the headmaster knew With your identity, I must be willing to welcome you. It seems strange that my master mentions you, but as long as you come, I will definitely protect you... "
He sneered, with a mocking meaning: "No need to be like this, you didn't let me down. I raised you up to the fullest, and I owe nothing to your parents. I came to this world, and I will take nothing away, nothing. Stay. After a hundred years, there is no need to erect a monument, if you can come and bury me in the bamboo forest, I will accept your love."
The world of mortals for whom I am crazy, he is abandoned like a shoe. I asked, "Why don't you simply become a monk?" He smiled and didn't answer.
I couldn't tell what it was like in my heart, so I took out all the broken silver on my body and gave it to him, saying: "You put it away first, if your hands are not convenient, you can do less work." But he shook his head and said: "Take it back, you I have never touched the money given last time, and put it all on the case to accumulate dust."
When I woke up, there was a pale morning mist outside the window, and the stripper had gone out to cut bamboo. I put on my clothes and left the room, leaving a bowl of noodles on the table, which was almost cold, and a roll of Hsinchu mat next to it.
After all, I was not reconciled, so I went into his room and left the broken silver on the couch. When I shifted my gaze, I saw that the money I brought back over the years was actually placed in the corner of the case, and he kept the ashes as he said.
I was angry and funny, and after careful inspection, I found that the letters I sent intermittently were neatly stacked together, as if they had been read countless times.
Now that I think about it, he is illiterate, and most likely he can't ask others to read, probably just by looking at his appearance.
I don't know why, I feel sad, and put them back carefully.