It is about a hundred miles south of the bamboo forest courtyard.

A turbulent river, under a tree, a figure suddenly flashed here. At this time, the ink magic power that wrapped around his body was slowly dissipating.

A wounded man appeared on the ground, and the snow-white clothes on his body were soaked in blood, covering the dust and bamboo leaves.

His sleeves were empty and pounced on the ground, his breath was weak.

A literary sword fell beside him.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Wake up quickly, Zhao Rong!" Gui observed the situation and quickly called out...

Not long.

Zhao Rong, who was urged to wake up by the sword spirit, turned over and fell on the grass, freed up his left hand, and grabbed a large handful of spiritual medicine to heal his injuries from the Sumeru object in his arms.

Many of them came from the treasury.

The young Confucian scholar's face was covered in blood and his anger was as angry as a fucking spring. His left hand trembled and poured out a bottle of elixir on the ground.

Then he fumbled around the ground with his left hand, grabbed a handful of pill mixed with mud and dust, and swallowed it with blood, as if he was swallowed whole...

The sword spirit anxiously felt the gradually stable energy in his body and breathed a sigh of relief.

At first, Zhao Rong felt a stream of depressed blood and blood stuffed in his chest, his breathing was not smooth, and he was about to suffocate. Soon, as these valuable magic pills that melt in their mouths evaporated, he finally recovered from the most difficult breath.

"It's still Zhu Yourong who knows you."

Gui suddenly sighed.

At this time, the young Confucian scholar was gasping for breath, lying on the grass, widening his eyes with cracked eyes, staring at the gradually drowsy sky.

He subconsciously wanted to stretch his right hand, but found that his right hand was gone, so he grinned at the corner of his mouth, stretched out his left hand and grabbed Wen Jian on the ground on the right side of his body.

Zhao Rong raised Wen Jian horizontally and took it to his eyes, staring blankly at the place where Zhu Yourong quietly left a "stroke".

Zhu Yourong deceived him a little.

But she only wrote two words.

One is "permanent", the other is "positive".

But it's not ten strokes, but eleven.

There is nothing to do with the word "正", but she deliberately wrote the word "正" into six strokes.

I was about to break the horizontal stroke and write it into two strokes. Even he was deceived, or he subconsciously ignored it. At that time, I thought she was naughty and didn't write it seriously. Now I want to come...

"Did you guess it at that time..."

Zhao Rong was stunned and stared at Wen Jian, his eyes ached by the sunlight reflected by the sword body.

However, compared with the entire severe pain that penetrated the broken arm at this time, this pain was like a drop in the bucket.

Zhao Rong's lips turned white, and a severe illusion of limbs came from the broken arm on his right, as if the hand was still there.

The flesh and blood on the broken arm was like it was wrapped in hot magma. Every drop of blood was burned and painful, and it gathered into a boiling sea of ​​bitterness, and then came wave after wave like a tide.

He was already numb in pain.

If the elixir in the body had not been taking effect slowly at this time, the powerful dragon in Fuyao Realm would have slowly absorbed spiritual energy and started to recover slowly. Zhao Rong would have lost too much blood and fell asleep.

When Zhao Rong was in a daze, Gui carefully observed the circle and couldn't help but feel sorry for him:

"Zhao Rong, look at this environment, we didn't seem to have escaped too far. The river next to us was flowing downstream. We were teleported to the south. On the contrary, Zhao Qian'er was sent by you to the north to the countercurrent direction for a thousand miles, and we... only have one stroke... no surprise, that is only one hundred miles."

Zhao Rong was still lying in the grass, holding the sword with one arm, staring blankly at the sound of the sword without replying.

He had something to do.

After saying that, Jian Ling paused, and then said in a loss:

"It's too close, too close, your aura must be locked by the old beast. He has the cultivation of the Golden Pill. Even if it's a strange way to swallow the outer pill, it's also the Golden Pill realm. If it's too close to a hundred miles, you can chase it immediately... and your injury..."

It was silent and sighed lonely.

Zhao Rong, who was dazed, suddenly asked, "She guessed that I, Zhao Ziyu, would one day... want to die?"

The sword spirit was slightly stunned and immediately said unhappy:

"Doesn't you still have to guess this? You are self-righteous and self-righteous in your own way, but you don't follow others' attitudes. To put it bluntly, you are macho and stubborn. Zhu Yourong left you ten strokes, and you gave them all to that little girl, regardless of whether she wants or not..."

It nodded and praised:

"Good job, Master Zhao is glorious. The little girl is also moved to cry. But is there any other meaning besides these? You patted your butt and left, but Concubine Zhao Ling and Zhao Qianer are gloriously widows. Hum seems to have a little fox demon, and they are both sad and blamed themselves for your whole life..."

Zhao Rong: “………”

Jian Ling sneered again: "It's all your women who are spoiled by you, but Zhu Yourong is more mature and reliable. She understands your temperament and specially keeps a backup plan. Although it seems useless now, it's all a dead end, and she still can't save Master Zhao who likes to seek death."

The young Confucian scholar looked at the light sword body, sucked in air and blinked, for a while, forgot the numbness and pain.

Unexpectedly, Jian Ling had such a strong "combat power" at this moment, and he was so sarcastic that he almost blushed and blamed himself.

The doubt in his heart was understood, Zhao Rong closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wiped the blood on his face with the back of his hand holding the sword, and then grinned:

"Have you finished scolding?"

"No!"

Jian Ling didn't think about it and continued to sneer:

"Anyway, the old beast will be approached and buried with Master Zhao. I will scold you a few more words to relieve my anger. I will carefully appreciate the old beast's skill of squeezing and skinning, and the handsome style of Master Zhao without blinking. I can barely feel at ease. By the way, on the road to the underworld, don't be beaten by me later, otherwise I will beat you, hum, I don't want to see you in the next life, so we will be reincarnated separately, so don't spread bad luck."

The sword spirit has a arrogant tone.

Zhao Rong: “………”

He was speechless for a while, and finally shook his head and did not speak back.

Suddenly, Zhao Rong jumped up with a carp, but unfortunately his figure was still a little unstable. He staggered forward a few steps and supported the ground with his sword to completely stabilize his steps.

However, these are all the last chapters of the side branches. The young Confucian scholar looked up indifferently and looked at the sun carefully.

"Is it still Shin Shi? I feel like the things just now have been longer than ten thousand years..."

He covered his broken arm and murmured, and then started moving immediately.

The sword spirit who was about to lie flat felt something was wrong and said vigilantly:

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Zhao Rong quickly took out the white cloth of the strap, cooperated with one hand and a pale mouth with a cleft lip, tore the strap a few times, and then carefully bandaged the broken arm wound.

At this time, he bit his teeth and waved his head to the left, tugged the knot tightly, then spit out the bandage in his mouth with a spit, and replied calmly:

"What are you doing? Live."

Jian Ling was stunned, "This is nothing nonsense. You are not alive or dead. I am asking what you are going to do and do these things."

Zhao Rong suddenly smiled, revealing a lusty and bloody mouth of white teeth:

"Live! Go back alive."

After being silent, the young Confucian scholar at this time had something called "light" in his eyes and tone.

Jian Ling became puzzled and just now he advised him not to die. He felt that he was running for life, but he insisted on going to die and giving the whole way to others.

As a result, the situation is at its end and it is desperate to die. However, for some reason he is energetic again and said firmly that he wants to live and go back alive...

Zhao Rong lowered his head, quickly picked up the magic pills scattered on the ground, and selected beneficial pills from it. Then, before he even had time to wipe the dust, he threw it into his mouth and swallowed it hard.

At this time, the sword spirit with the poisonous tongue became quiet abnormally, and the young Confucian scholar seemed to have noticed something.

He was silent for a while, and first lowered his head and slapped the literary sword engraved with the Xuanbird pattern of Destiny on his waist again.

Then the young Confucian scholar in blood was covered in blood by the river, alone facing north, that is, Duyoucheng, and said directly:

"I want to go back to see them!"

Ps: Refresh it in half an hour. This chapter is not long, don’t wait too long... It’s enough for half an hour, brothers.
Chapter completed!