One Sword Nine Ya

Chapter 8 Folding Bamboo

The girl in red walked in first, and in an instant, all ghosts cried together, and the sorrow and resentment accumulated for a century of subjugation turned into a ghostly turbidity and rushed towards her.

Ye Jiuya looked at Xie Lang: "Guard the city gate."

The Taoist nodded, and handed Qingyuan to Wen Hui's arms, holding a snow-white dust whisk in his hand, which was really a bit of a fairy.

Chen Weichen looked at Ye Jiuya.

Ye Jiuya said to him, "Can you use a sword?"

This person already knew a little bit about him, so Chen Weichen didn't hide it anymore: "Know a little bit."

A clear silver light flashed, a long sword was thrown by Ye Jiuya, and he was catching it.

He weighed it and switched to his left hand.

Xie Lang raised his eyebrows.

Ye Jiuya's eyes were fixed, but he just said: "You stay here."

Then turn around and leave.

Chen Weichen looked at the sword, the light of the sword was clear, the ice crystal was clear, and the name of the sword was "Zhezhu".

"Ye Xue Folds Bamboo, it's a good sword." He admired.

"Zhezhu——this is the sword Master Ye used when he was young. I don't know why he changed it later." Xie Lang cast a spell to prevent resentful spirits from fleeing outside the city, and said, "Mr. Chen, I'm curious. Now, who the hell are you, and why did you change your left hand even to hold a sword, hiding it so as not to be recognized by others."

Chen Weichen wiped his sword and said with a smile: "I'm just a mortal now, if you see me using a sword, can you recognize who it is?"

Xie Lang said quite complacently: "That's right, there are two major sects that use swords, the Jiange in the North is simple and straightforward, and the sword platform in the South Sea is changing and beautiful, plus you are the kings who use swords—Wan Junhou is calm, Liubohou is light and agile, Feishuang Hou is swift and swift, Lord Yanlong beat Kunlun with his heavy sword, Lord Lanshan is upright and dignified... But whenever you use your sword moves, I can see the clues and know which family you belong to."

He seemed to think of something, and said again: "There is only Emperor Yan alone, but I don't know, I was not a Lang Ranhou at that time. Immortals only know that he once held the Tianhe with a sword, and few people saw him make a move—but you In this way, he is naturally not an emperor."

"That's right," Chen Weichen slid his fingertips across the edge of the sword, his voice was extremely low and soft, "Of course I can't compare to him."

"No, no, wait," Xie Langnian's muttering voice suddenly became heavier: "I saw that the sword that Master Ye is equipped with is called 'Nine Ya', Nine Ya, Nine Ya Sword..."

Chen Weichen smiled casually, but handed the "zhezhu" to Wen Hui: "I'm leaving. The little Taoist priest surnamed Xie has ordinary martial arts, so you use it for self-defense."

Then he spread his fan and walked towards the city without looking back.

Xie Lang suddenly thought of something, and almost jumped up from the ground: "Yes, the Nine Ya Sword! It was Emperor Yan's sword back then—it's just too long ago, and no one remembers it! Why is it in Ye Jianzhu... ..."

"My lord, where are you going—" Wen Hui ignored Xie Lang's surprise, and shouted at Chen Weichen who was about to disappear into the city gate.

Just when he thought that his crazy young man, who was always doing death-seeking things, was about to be devoured alive by fierce ghosts, he saw that figure dressed in brocade clothes leisurely walking into the dance of demons, unexpectedly unharmed.

The resentful souls around did not have the scene of Ye Jiuya and Lu Hongyan attacking when they stepped in, as if they hadn't seen it, they were still wandering aimlessly in the streets and alleys.Even if Chen Weichen met them face to face, he didn't feel anything, as if what passed through their bodies was not a living person, but an ethereal speck of dust, or an equally ethereal ghost.

After crossing the wide thoroughfare and turning a corner, Chen Weichen disappeared in a direction different from Ye Jiuya's - that figure was somewhat desolate and lonely for no reason.

Wen Hui watched helplessly as the young master disappeared among the ghosts and the fire, as if stepping into the underworld from the underworld.

The tall houses on both sides of the street have upturned eaves, which must be a magnificent scene in the bustling and peaceful times.But at this time, the last bit of setting sun in the sky was gone, like dark red blood dripping into the pitch-black soil, without a sound, only black shadows remained on the street, the dark fire was faint, ferocious and strange.

The further you went into the city, the more resentment became stronger, and the ghost was no longer the erratic turbidity before. After crossing two long streets, I arrived at the neighborhood where the common people in the city used to live.

Withered grass and dry poplars, it was once a singing and dancing venue.

There is a figure moving, with deep obsession, condensed into a solid body, except for the ignorant eyes, ragged clothes, and slow steps, it is no different from a real person.

An old man who was over sixty years old stood in the ruins of the street corner, with one hand hanging in the air and the other hand kept turning.

It seems that this is still his wonton stand in the prosperous and prosperous age. At night, the warm yellow lantern is lit, and the guests on the tables and stools behind are talking while waiting for a bowl of steaming hot noodle soup.

From the house facing the street came the hoarse singing of the singer.

The song is "Seeing him get up from Zhulou, seeing him entertaining guests, seeing his building collapse."

The young master in the middle of the road is obsessed with drawing gold and painting fans, wearing jingle bells around them, and the night wind blows his clothes and wide sleeves.

A woman dressed in gray and white walked in front of him, with heavy steps, holding a lantern with faint phosphorescence.

"My lord," the cloudy eyes suddenly turned to Chen Weichen, and he murmured, "Li Lang, have you seen Li Lang? He hasn't been home for a long time."

Chen Weichen replied to her: "Which Li Lang?"

"My family's Li Lang, he is tall..." Youhun closed his eyes, and his voice was confused: "Wearing... black clothes, or red clothes..."

"It turned out to be Mrs. Li." Chen Weichen said.

Youhun opened his eyes happily: "It's me, you recognize me? I thought no one recognized me anymore."

"Mrs. Li, I want to ask, where did the biggest fire in Shangyang Imperial City start?"

"Fire, fire..." Youhun took a few steps back, his voice hoarse and trembling in fear: "Fire, big fire, the sky is going to burn, it's so hot, Li Lang, Li Lang—"

"Ma'am, don't be afraid." The son stroked her hair with his slender fingers, and his voice was gentle.

The wandering soul was taken aback.

Chen Weichen took out a hand-sized mirror and handed it to her eyes: "Li Lang is here."

Youhun took the bronze mirror, stared blankly, and murmured: "Li Lang, my Li Lang..."

A line of tears slid down her gray cheeks, taking away the confusion in her eyes, revealing a trace of clarity.

"My lord," she looked at Chen Weichen with a mournful tone, "Since you know that Li Lang is no longer here, and I blame ghosts for the souls of the dead, why did you let me meet this phantom for a short time?"

"I have searched for a hundred years, and finally saw Li Lang, but it was a dream. When you take back the mirror, Li Lang and I will part again—isn't it more painful and painful?"

"Ma'am, lovesickness is the worst thing. If we can meet him again and let go of our obsession, no matter how hard it is, I won't be afraid." The young master's eyelashes drooped slightly, and his voice was soft and gentle.

Wandering Soul sobbed: "The most painful thing is lovesickness, yes, yes - I thank you, young master."

She bowed to Chen Weichen: "My lord, the fire comes from the south."

After all, the figure gradually became thin and transparent, and the obsession was gone, the entity lost, turned into a wisp of smoke and passed away, returning to the blue sky, no more joy, anger, sorrow, joy, greed, ignorance, and arrogance.

The mirror flower mirror fell to the ground with a clang, rolled several times on the ground, made a dull sound, and knocked on people's hearts one after another.

Chen Weichen took a few steps forward, put away the bronze mirror, and headed south.

The pavilions and pavilions are full of ghosts.

Passing through an alley, I suddenly heard knocking.

The voice was clear and clear, with a boundless calmness, which was incompatible with the whole ghost city.

It is the sound of compassion.

Chen Weichen followed the sound and saw a high platform, on which sat a monk in white robes, knocking on wooden fish.Except for the right hand that was struck with the Vatican hammer, the rest of the monk's body was motionless, like a clay stone sculpture.

As if hearing his footsteps, the monk opened his eyes and slowly got up: "Benefactor."

About middle age, kind-hearted.

Chen Weichen waved his painting fan for a while, and his tone was like that of a mortal dude: "Monk, how many years have you been here?"

"In 130," the monk said in a clear voice, "Even if I tried my best, I couldn't get rid of the resentful soul here, so I sat here in meditation. The soul can't get out, and I can't get out."

"Now someone who can help you is coming, can you help?"

"Naturally, it is helping." The monk walked down the tower step by step, shaking off the dust, and the treasure looked solemn, "I don't know why the benefactor came here?"

Chen Weichen continued to walk south, and replied to the monk, "I'll get the Splendid Ash."

"The benefactor already has karma from past lives and monstrous karma. If he takes the ashes of the splendor again, he will be forever lost."

"Someone wants to argue with me about this forever." Chen Weichen smiled a little from the corner of his eyes, "I had to rush over there earlier, and take the Splendid Ashes first, and bear the karma for him."