There have been thousands of heroes in the cultivation world, but now there are only ten people who can be listed on the "Xianjun Spectrum", and Nangong Changying is one of them.
In the past, Mo Ran didn't take it seriously. He once used a little finger to crush the Confucianism Seventy-two City. He only felt that there were hundreds of waste pustules hidden in this fairy city, and the knife started before it was placed on the neck. Screaming in pain, he began to beg for mercy before the sword could be chopped down.
As Ye Wangxi said before his death in his previous life, none of the seventy cities of Huanghuang Confucianism is a man.
In the eyes of Mo Ran, the Confucianism Gate is a piece of loose sand, and what kind of great character can Nangong Changying, who gathered this piece of loose sand
Mottled with blood, the century-old foundation was razed to the ground by latecomers in an instant. There were dead bodies everywhere, and crows pecked at the belly of the dead. When the Emperor Treading Immortal stepped up the stairs back then, without any expression on his face, he pushed open the door of the Xianxian Hall—
Wearing a black cloak that reached the ground, he walked through the corridor with portraits of Confucian-style heads and elders, and finally stopped at the end of the Hall of the Sages.
Step Xianjun raised his face, put on a cloak, and under the hood, he couldn't see his whole face clearly, only his pale chin could be seen, the arc was sharp and arrogant, slightly raised, and looked at him with a judgmental attitude. The taller than life statue.
It is a statue carved from a white jade spirit stone. The statue is of a young immortal in a wide robe and wide sleeves. He stands with a bow in his hand to control the wind. The craftsman's hand-painted brush is vigorous and ingenious. After smearing his clothes, the bloody morning sun shone from the perforated skylight behind the statue, making him look like an exiled immortal bathed in the divine light of the Nine Heavens.
Stepping on the half face under Xianjun's hood, he suddenly showed a smile, revealing white teeth and sweet dimples.
He tidyed up his clothes, gave a long bow, then raised his handsome face, and said with a smile, "I've been looking back for a long time, Nangong Xianchang."
The statue naturally does not speak, only the pair of black spar flows shimmering, as if gazing at the coming person.
Stepping Xianjun is really boring, no one pays any attention to him, and he can still play for a long time: "Junior Mo Weiyu, I have the honor to meet today, Nangong Xianchang is really good-looking."
He was laughing and laughing, and he talked lively for a long time alone, and the living people became nervous at the statue.
"I've met your Xuanxuan Xuanxuan..." He snapped his fingers, then sighed, "I can't tell, who knows which generation of nephew you are, and who has seen your nephew, who knows which generation of nephew , you don't know the first generation of apprentices."
Then he smiled charmingly: "But now they've all become my ghosts, so if you haven't reincarnated, Xianchang, you've probably seen them already."
"It's a pity that I didn't see your grandson Xuanxuan Xuanxuan. That guy fled before the city was broken. I don't know if he was alive or dead, so I'm somewhat sorry."
He was happy again, Piriyang chatted with the statue very intimately for a while, and then said: "By the way, I heard that Nangong Xianchang was also a generation of outstanding people back then, and everyone's expectations, wherever they go, there are people who swear their allegiance to follow. , and there are even those who have embraced Immortals and become emperors."
The ink burned and said with a smile: "Isn't that as powerful as I am today? So I came here, and what I said before was all nonsense. I just have a question - I don't know why Nangong Xianchang didn't refuse to ascend to the throne in the past?"
He paused and took a few steps forward. At this time, his eyes fell on the warning monument standing behind the sculpture of Nangong Changying. In fact, the monument was so big that he saw it early in the morning, but he kept deliberately ignoring it. Pass.
The stone tablet was carved with a sword when Nangong Changying was ninety-six years old. It was plain and simple at first, but later the quilt was added with gold powder and bright colors.
Mo Ran stared at it for a while and smiled: "Oh, I understand. 'Greed, slander, kill, rob, and plunder, is my Confucianism gentleman seven can't do?' Xianchang is really good."
He stood with his hands behind his back, and continued: "But Xian Chang has a good reputation, and he has taught future generations earnestly, until he dies, but I am curious, did Xian Chang expect that one day, Confucianism will become a sect of Confucianism What's the situation today?"
When he said this, he pursed his lips, as if he was thinking of a suitable word to describe it, and then he thought of it, so he slapped his palms and smiled: "A litter of rats?"
After he finished speaking, he laughed. The smile was cheerful and arbitrary, pure and sinister. It echoed in the empty and solemn hall of the sages for a long time. The sound was like cracking silk. Portraits of Yingjie of Confucianism in past dynasties…
The laughter finally stopped in front of Nangong Changying's icy sculpture and stopped abruptly.
The ink burned no longer laughed, he restrained his smile, and a layer of ice slowly condensed on his face.
His dark eyes stared at the former sage of Wu Dai who was the wind, staring at the person who, like him, could also command the world and step on all immortals.
It seems that time and space meet here, and the first immortals of the two eras confront each other in the torrent of time.
Finally, the ink burned softly: "Nangong Changying, your Confucianism door is a pool of dirty water, I don't believe you will be clean."
He waved his sleeves and turned around abruptly, strode out of the Xianxian Hall, and suddenly a gust of wind blew off the hood of the cloak, finally revealing the face of Emperor Treading Immortal, which was approaching madness.
He has the most handsome appearance in the world, and is a well-deserved handsome man, but on this face, there is a fierce and vicious look that is unique in the world, like a carrion vulture.
The black robe was like a thick cloud of ink, rolling down the long steps.
He is a savage ghost in the world, an Asura of the mortal world. When he looked up, there were corpses of Confucianism disciples everywhere. Those who lacked arms and legs, Treading Immortal Lord did not accept surrendering troops. , rush to kill.
At that moment, Mo Ran's heart was filled with cruel pleasure. He looked at the splendid morning glow on the horizon, the rising sun pierced the clouds, and a dazzling golden light shone on his pale face.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, clenched his hands in his sleeves, trembling slightly with ecstasy and excitement.
He was such a man with a life like a mustard. When he was young, he used to beg for food in the land of Linyi. He once saw his mother starve to death with his own eyes, and he didn't even have a straw mat to wrap his body around. At that time, he asked a monk from the Confucianism sect to buy him a coffin, the thinnest and worst, but the man said something to him mockingly—
The cultivator said, "Whoever deserves the coffin, if you hit three feet, you won't be able to ask for ten feet."
He had no choice, so he wanted to bury his mother on the spot, but Linyi was strictly controlled. The nearest mass grave was outside Daicheng, and it took two hills to reach it.
He dragged his mother's corpse, and was looked at with disgust, contempt, surprise and sympathy all the way, but no one helped him, he walked for fourteen days, a child dragged a woman's body, fourteen days .
Fourteen days. Not a single person willing to help him.
At first, he would kneel on the side of the road and beg, begging passing gentlemen, grooms, and farmers if they could take him and his mother on a wooden cart.
But who would want to put the body of an unknown person in their car
Then he stopped begging, just gritted his teeth, dragged his mother, and walked step by step.
The corpse stiffened, softened, and began to rot. There was a foul stench and corpse fluid seeping out. Passers-by all retreated three feet from him, covering their noses and rushing.
On the fourteenth day, he finally reached the mass grave.
He no longer smelled of living people, and the stench of corpses permeated his bones.
He didn't have a pick, so he dug a shallow hole under the mass grave with his hands - he really didn't have the strength to dig a deep hole, he dragged his mother, who was rotten beyond recognition, into the hole, and then He just sat beside him.
After a long time, he said stiffly, "Auntie, I should bury you."
He started scooping the soil, and only when he scooped a handful, sprinkled it on his mother's chest, he collapsed, and he burst into tears.
Strange, he thought the tears had already dried up.
"No, no, you won't be able to see it if you're buried, and you won't be able to see it if you're buried." He crawled into the pit again, crouching on the rotten corpse, howling, tears rolling down his cheeks. When his mood eased a little, he went to scoop the soil again, but the soil seemed to have some kind of smell that could open a person's tear ducts, and he was crushed again.
"It's all rotten like this... It's all rotten like this..."
"Why don't you even have a seat..."
"A-Niang... A-Niang..."
He took his face to rub her, he didn't dislike her dirty, she smelled, she was dead, she didn't have a piece of good skin on her body, she was bleeding with pus and maggots crawling on her body.
He fell in her arms and wept bitterly, choking his throat and tearing his lungs. Every sound seemed to be dug out of the throat with blood stained.
In the end, his whine echoed on the mass grave. The voice was distorted, hoarse, and indistinct. Sometimes it sounded like a human cry, but more often it sounded like a cub's whimper after losing its mother.
"A-Niang... A-Niang!!"
"Someone... Is there someone... Come and bury me too... Bury me too..."
In the blink of an eye, twenty has passed.
The ink burned back to Linyi, standing on the top of the mountain top of the Confucianism Gate Biwa Feizhu, standing in front of the sea of blood.
The corpse-smelling cub has turned into bright fur and sharp fangs. He opened his eyes again, and his pupils flashed with crazy and agitated brilliance.
He is standing here today, who would dare to tell him that he hit three feet, and you can hardly ask for ten feet
absurd! He wants ten feet, a hundred feet, a thousand feet!
He wants them, everyone in this world, to kneel down, rub their knees on the ground, and present his tens of thousands of feet on his knees—
Step on all the immortals and honor the world! ! !
He has entered the Hall of the Xianxian and met Nangong Changying. He is more and more sure of his desires and ambitions. Yes, step on all the immortals and respect the world. Everything can be held in the palm of his hand, and everything can be grasped. live.
He will no longer be the child who was fondling the corpse and weeping bitterly. He will no longer let the person he loves die in front of him, rot in front of him, his skin will turn into bones, and his old face will rot into mud.
Never again.
A hundred years later, he will also become a god like Nangong Changying, worshipped by people, standing up from high mountains, and white jade as a golden powder.
No, he will be better than Nangong Changying, his life and death will be far better than the original Confucianism, and he, the first king of the cultivation world, will also be better than the hypocrite Nangong Changying who can't afford to let go More to teach people to admire, more to teach people to praise.
sin
He didn't believe that Nangong Changying had no sins, and that a person who could create such a monster as Confucianism, how could he be a noble and upright gentleman who sacrificed his life for righteousness
Isn't it just "greed, grievance, murder, prostitution, robbery, and seven things that I, a Confucian gentleman, cannot do"? Who doesn't say nice things? Before he died, Mo Weiyu could find someone to come up with some wonderful and praiseworthy words for him to wake up to the world, and he could find someone who slapped the horse to write a history book for him. The darkness of the past was written off. The Lord of Shengming, who "has a heart for the people and the people, and he dominates the business in one fell swoop".
Really good.
There is no ending that could be better than this.
"Greeds, grievances, murders, prostitutes, robbery... It's me... Confucianism and gentleman... Seven... Don't do it..."
A faint murmur sounded like thunder, banging in his ears.
The ink burned suddenly from the mud of memories, but there was still a mess of sparks in front of him. He looked up at the enchantment, and Nangong Changying, who had been pierced through the chest by Nangong Si with the arrow of piercing the cloud.
The face is exactly the same as that of the jade carving back then.
Someone was exclaiming: "Nangong Si is so injured, how can he pull the Cloud Piercing Bow?!"
"Is that bow prepared long ago?!"
"Look, there is spiritual power attached to the bow... It's not Nangong Si's! Yes, yes..."
No one went on.
But everyone knew it.
It is from Nangong Changying.
The only person who could control the Cloud Piercing Divine Bow was Nangong Changying.
On the bow and arrow, there is the last spiritual stream left by Nangong Changying before his death.
The fire quickly spread and burned in Nangong Changying's chest, the cloud-piercing arrow pierced his heart, and the fire spread to his body instantly—
But the corpse felt no pain. Nangong Changying's body seemed so tall and straight in the flames, and his face seemed so peaceful and calm, even calm.
Mo Ran heard Xue Zhengyi muttering next to him: "He had expected it?... He... Did he expect such a day?"
Do not…
It wouldn't have been anticipated, it's just a coincidence.
The ink burns, and the pupils are twisted into two slits—
It's just a coincidence!
But how could he convince himself? Can break free from the control of Zhenlong chess pieces, long-broken meridians, and even buried in Jiaoshan, Shenwu Chuanyun, who was never buried, and the bow and arrows filled with spiritual power on Chuanyun.
… If it is not carefully arranged, how can this field be achieved.
He staggered back a step.
He once thought they were the same, he once thought that all the legendary heroes in the world were just born with a pair of hands that could cover the sky, wipe off the stains of a lifetime, put on a clean shroud, and leave a piece of white, He thought that Nangong Changying was just like the Confucianism Sect he had seen, they were just superficial, they were just evil beasts wearing human skin masks!
Is he wrong
He looked at Nangong Changying, who was surrounded by splendid fire. Hundreds of years ago, he was the same immortal elder with amazing spiritual power and the ability to penetrate the sky and the earth.
Is he wrong? ? !
Nothing can drown out sins, no matter how grand the official history is written, it will leave flaws that cannot be justified, and you can never stop your mouth.
Nangong Changying is a person of perfection, who refuses to seek hegemony or rise to the top - he once thought that it was just a whitewash and concealment of himself by people at the pinnacle of power.
Is he wrong...
Nothing can hide the truth, just like the snow that has been deposited in the winter will melt, and after the whiteness of the vastness fades away, the earth will bare the face of the ravines, and the dirt hidden in all the wrinkles has nowhere to escape. Screaming in the daytime.
Is he... wrong...
Mo Ran shook his head slowly, he stared at Nangong Changying, Nangong Changying also raised his face, he was still covered with the black ribbon embroidered with the dragon pattern, no one could see his eyes, the ink burned Can't see either.
But I don't know if it's my own illusion. Mo Ran feels that Nangong Changying seems to be smiling. There are smile lines under the black ribbon. The fire can't be burned, and the water can't wash it off. The smile marks, he stood quietly in a sea of fire, in the warm light.
If possible, he would also like to be selfish for a while, leaving this crippled body, always with the green hills and green cypresses, and the heroes of later generations.
The world is so beautiful that no one wants to leave.
But he also knew that sometimes he couldn't walk, so he had already made plans to cut off the scriptures and hide the bow, so that the corpse would be used by people in the future, and it would be used by tigers.
The world is too beautiful, flowers are enough, blood should not be stained.
"Too Sect Master..." Nangong Si held the cloud-piercing bow and knelt on the ground. The firelight illuminated his young face and the tears on his face, "This junior is unworthy..."
The cloud-piercing fire burned away the precious Heizi in Nangong Changying's body. He was about to be burnt to ashes, and his entire body became weaker and weaker in the light of the fire.
Nangong Changying, who was completely free, asked Nangong Si: "How many years have passed since the establishment of the Confucianism Gate?"
He is just a corpse, his soul is gone.
There are not many memories and consciousness that can be preserved in the flesh, so if you want to ask, you can only ask such simple things.
Nangong Si did not dare to neglect, so he choked and replied, "It has been four hundred and twenty-one years since the establishment of the Confucianism Gate."
Nangong Changying tilted his head, and now he even had a smile on his lips.
"It's been a long time," he said.
The voice was faint, like the wind passing through the mountains and forests, scattered without a trace.
"I thought that two hundred years would end." Nangong Changying's voice was gentle and generous, flowing through the grass and leaves of Jiaoshan, "Everything in the world has a lifespan, and when lifespan is reached, it cannot be extended by human beings. Besides, aging has a certain lifespan. The sun will be replaced by the youth, and the old will one day be replaced by the new. Anything that has been used for a long time will become dirty and old, and someone will throw it away and overthrow it, which is a good thing. You don’t have to blame yourself.”
Nangong Si raised his head abruptly, his complexion was as white as a piece of paper due to excessive blood loss, and his voice trembled slightly: "Sect Master!"
"Actually, how long the Confucianism sect has survived does not depend on how many years the sect has stood and how many disciples it has." Nangong Changying's figure was almost invisible, and his voice became more and more distant, "but there are still people in this world who keep in mind, Greed, hate, lie, kill, prostitute, steal and plunder, these are the seven things that a Confucian gentleman cannot do.”
He said, flicking his sleeves, Jiaoshan's vegetation vibrated in an instant, and the vines rose everywhere, sinking all the corpses that were about to get rid of the restraint into the depths of the earth.
"Remember and do it, the fire has been paid."
After saying these words, Nangong Changying's body was suddenly separated and shattered in the raging fire, and it turned into a little bit of firefly powder, golden red starlight, scattered among the vast mountains and forests.
The corpse has disappeared, but the lingering sound has not dissipated.
Inside the barrier, Nangong Si had long since stopped crying. Outside the barrier, Ye Wangxi knelt down. She knelt down, and people knelt down one after another. I Changying, Immortal Nangong—
Before life and after death, they are all heroes.
The author has something to say: If you hit three feet, you can't escape a ten feet. It's not a common quote, and it needs to be explained. I want to find the original source of this sentence, but I can't find it, so I have to say, this is a sentence from an ancestor I don't know, it's not original by me, scratching my head