i have a sword fairy

She helped Zhao Rong collect Zhengguan well water and helped him practice.

The two exchange calligraphy occasionally in high mountains and flowing water, and have a good talk.

This kind of getting along, Zhao Rong thinks it's quite good.

And this is real life, how could it be like what is written in the book, developing all the way in the wrong direction...

"Brother Zhao."

Yu Huaijin's voice suddenly sounded.

The peace in the study was broken.

Zhao Rong came back to his senses and realized that he seemed to have been staring at Zhu Yourong for too long, and Yu Huaijin looked at him expressionlessly.

In addition, the eyes of Jingzi and Bifang are also on him.

Zhao Rong coughed twice in embarrassment.

Zhu Yourong, who was writing quietly, paused for a moment with the brush, looked up at Zhao Rong calmly, and then lowered his head to write again.

In this way, half an hour later, the night gradually deepened.

During this period, Zhao Rong was a little surprised by Zhu Yourong's calligraphy progress, she is indeed very talented.

There are many strokes, he only needs to teach them once, and Zhu Yourong can grasp the general essence.

Even one point can be understood, draw inferences about other cases from one instance.

The way the two talk and get along is also respectful and respectful.

Not long after, Zhao Rong glanced out the window and said goodbye.

Zhu Yourong saluted, and said softly: "Thank you Ziyu for your guidance."

Seeing this, Zhao Rong returned the salute respectfully, "Mr. Zhu is too polite."

Zhu Yourong smiled and shook her head, and then made an appointment for the next time when Zhao Rong would come to 'drink tea'.

After that, she sent Jingzi to send Zhao Rong out of Yilanxuan.

Not long after Zhao Rong and Jing Zi left.

Yu Huaijin also bid farewell, and left with Bifang.

Zhu Yourong stood quietly behind the desk and watched everyone leave.

She looked at the empty room and fell silent.

At a certain moment, Zhu Yourong frowned slightly, raised her hand to cover her chest, and then walked quickly behind the screen,

Soon, she took off something she hated but had to cling to, and returned to her desk.

Zhu Yourong, who was freed from a layer of restraint, let out a long breath of relief.

She turned to look at the west window.

On the window sill, there was a pot of pure white orchids swaying in the dark wind.

It fell into the bright room for a while, and fell back into the gray night for a while.

Looking beyond the orchid, there is a dark scene in the distance.

In the distance, in those Confucian academies, buildings imitating Zhongzhou Confucian Temple with strict regulations and rigid styles are hidden in the night.

They are arranged in a horizontal row, like a high dark wall rising from the trees, directly connecting with the sky.

It just stood straight and straight in Zhu Yourong's field of vision, filled with her eyes, and it was so dark that it also cut off the distance.

Zhu Yourong walked quickly to the window, took back the orchid outside the window, closed the casement tightly, hugged the orchid, and turned her back.

The room was bright and dazzling, and the light was silent.

Zhu Yourong looked down at the orchid blooming alone in the flower pot, admiring its fragrance.

She suddenly smiled.

Zhu Yourong smiled lightly, returned to the table, placed the flowerpot on the table, spread paper and ink, and continued to write at the desk.

Orchids, calligraphy, and this quiet study.

These are all she earned.

She is already content.

Can't hope for anything else.

……

In the academy, in the southeast corner, there is a path hidden in the forest.

It was pitch black.

There are two dark shadows walking.

No moon tonight.

It was vaguely visible that of the two figures, one was thin and short, and the other was slender and tall.

The little one went ahead.

The slender ones followed behind.

The two walked quietly.

In a certain section of the dark path, there were few trees beside the road, so the light from the brightly lit buildings outside shot into the forest, forming several slanting beams of light.

Dust floats in a pale yellow light.

At a certain moment, the two figures passed through these slanting light beams one by one.

It's like a white horse passing through the gap, which can clearly show some of the appearances of the two of them.

The man in front raised his hand, with a straight face.

The man in the back is dressed in blue, with a fiery red embroidered pouch in his slender left hand.

in the dark.

"Little Master."

The voice came from a slender girl behind.

The old-fashioned girl in front was still walking quietly without making a sound.

Afterwards, there was another silence between the two.

After a while.

The slender girl suddenly said:

"My lord, I want to eat him."

"No."

The old-fashioned girl's voice was calm, but her tone was unquestionable.

"Oh."

The slender girl responded softly, and said nothing more, she just lowered her head and fiddled with the food pouch for a while, feeling a bit dull, so she smacked her lips.

It looks delicious, and the surname is Zhao...

She loves it.

Chapter 3 Landscape Painting Dream

That night.

Dongli Xiaozhu, North House.

a candle.

Light up half the house.

In the middle of the house, there is a specially vacated space.

There is a Confucian scholar in green shirts who closes his eyes and walks around.

"Negative Shanzhi" five-style boxing post.

Throwing fists in the sleeves, flowing clouds and flowing water, combining rigidity and softness.

Zhao Rong, who closed his eyes, felt that his current state was very strange.

As if the consciousness had been separated, looking down at him walking on the ground in mid-air, it was like falling into a dream.

Moreover, Zhao Rong clearly felt it.

It's not that the fist moves with him, but that he moves with the fist.

It all fell into place.

After thousands of times of walking, it seems that Zhao Rong's instinct has become Zhao Rong's instinct.

In the words of his previous life, he is already proficient, and this set of boxing techniques is deeply rooted in his bones.

Just like his calligraphy, there is no need to deliberately put pen and paper on paper, and the strokes such as horizontal scales and vertical strokes, lifting and turning are natural and vivid on the paper.

And Zhao Rong remembered it even more deeply.

Half a year ago, on the way to the north, beside the fire under the green hills on a moonlit night, Liu Sanbian told him softly that this is called fisting the upper body.

This is the realm that countless warriors under the mountain dream of.

At that time, Liu Sanbian pulled out a sinister and gentle smile from the corner of his mouth.

If brother Zhao can walk through the stakes and get out of the boxing intention, then he has the talent of a high-level martial artist. At that time, I will give him another set of boxing techniques.

It's just that when he spoke later, his smile gradually stopped.

It should be, and I feel that [-]% of them will not be able to wait for this day.

At this moment, Zhao Rong, who was walking around with his eyes closed, pursed his lips, and his thoughts were about to change...

Just the next second.

He slammed the sword into the stove.

The room was suddenly dark, filled with the dead night, without light and light, only a pair of resolute eyes as bright as stars.

It turned out that it was Zhao Rong who just pointed in the air and extinguished the candle on the table in the distance.

The upper body of this fist moves naturally, which is actually half a beat faster than his thoughts.

Zhao Rong suddenly took a breath.

Except for Lengshen's miraculous fist that flows through his whole body, as well as the fact that he broke through the sixth "Chongmai" of the eight extraordinary meridians just now.

It was also because at this moment he was covered in sweat and his clothes were soaked.

It happened to be the short period of weakness of the fire dragon in the body after the successful pulse pulse, and the body was also very weak. In this late autumn night, the cool wind hit the body, this feeling...

However, the corners of Zhao Rong's mouth still couldn't help but raise.

Finally, another vein was broken, one step closer to Fuyao Realm.

He jumped up and down a couple of times on the spot, stretching his muscles and bones, and immediately re-lighted the lamp, then went to the tub to fetch hot water for a bath.

About half an hour later.

Zhao Rong, who had cleaned up, put on the autumn clothes that Qing Jun had washed for him, and walked towards the desk, ready to light up the lamp and read at night.

He raised his eyelids, breathed a sigh of relief, passed the bed in the house, and after walking a few steps, he paused slightly.

Zhao Rong stood still for a moment and thought about it.

In the next second, he hiccuped and walked towards the bed, giving up the idea of ​​continuing to read at night.

As Qingjun said, it's time to rest.

Zhao Rong faced down, and fell straight on the quilt that Zhao Lingfei personally dried and spread.

It seems to have the breath of her and sunshine.

Someone took a few deep sniffs.