Chapter 237: Two hundred and forty-five, Dust of History

Two hundred and forty-five, Dust of History

After Liu Zilin's head fell to the ground, he seemed to face the empty underground palace and said some words with great emotion.

He said... the sword belonged to their Liu family, asking why his family's three generations of hard work and struggle couldn't compare to him, a radish magistrate who had studied for ten years.

He said that the Xin Dingjian, which their Liu brothers had sacrificed so much to harvest, was easily snatched away by him, an unrelated outsider, which was so aggrieved and unfair.

He also said, it harms the girl who does the needlework. This made him feel even more uncomfortable than Ouyang Rong killing him directly.

Liu Zilin was remorseful, painful, and fearful. Ouyang Rong ignored him.

Finally, Liu Zilin roared at the sky.

But the head, mixed with these distorted expressions, fell heavily to the floor, rolled twice, and stopped at the foot of a lotus pedestal that looked like a red lotus.

Ouyang Rong lay on the ground like a dead man.

Around him were headless corpses lined up, quietly accompanying him. The monk looked up at the wellhead.

When his finger touched the mask, Master Ma's eyes surged with purple light. The famous temple of the Southern Dynasties, which had lasted for five hundred years, was destroyed in a day.

The light and shadow in the underground palace were dreamlike.

Master Ma lowered his head, his face neither sad nor happy. On the ground beside him lay a moonlight longsword and a new bronze beast mask.

Not far away, a moonlight longsword lay quietly beside the five-character stone carving of "Return, O Return" on the lotus pedestal.

Outside the well, it was still Ouyang Rong of Longcheng County, under the jurisdiction of Jiangzhou, Jiang Nan Circuit, Great Zhou. Master Ma didn't know when he started silently watching that scene.

This was not the Pure Land of Zhong Liu Zilin, but his place of death and nirvana.

And the reason why Zhong Liu Zilin, as a high monk with exquisite cultivation, could meet the harsh condition of Grade 4 cultivation was that the Lotus Sect Qi-refining technique possessed by Fei Zhiwei was very special, capable of naturally dissipating spiritual energy cultivation and successfully falling to any rank.

He saw the lonely shadow of the wooden man in the mask. Master Ma's remaining spiritual energy in his body was suddenly completely drained. The monk in the cassock seemed to see a similar scene.

On the four walls, a radiant "Return, O Return" poem also extinguished word by word, returning to darkness.

With a "bang," the young magistrate fell heavily and tripped.

The Ouyang Rong monk and the Mei family sword caster were worried that all the Tripod Swords would fall into the hands of a single dictator, and to comply with the Lotus Tower Alliance, they returned a new Xin Dingjian to the Lady Yunmeng Yunmeng Yunmeng Jian Ze that had originally supplied the "Tripod."

He slowly took off the bronze mask, revealing a pair of distracted eyes:

Behind the mural on the east side of the underground palace, Master Ma looked at the dirty white old wall behind the mural crack and shook his head.

The monk who imprisoned himself slowly lowered his head.

He knelt on the ground, supporting himself with his hands, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, covered his stomach, turned over, sat on the ground, and looked up at the strange light and shadow performing in the underground palace:

But the monk in the cassock did not move at all, his palms pressed together, his lips moving as he recited scriptures. The backyard of the Beitian Jiyang Yuan.

Another 1,500 merit points were consumed. Just then, an anomaly appeared.

The shadow of this monk in the cassock was vivid, and even the two long eyebrows like fishing rods were realistically manifested, lifelike.

In his hand, he was still clutching a bloody head. Motionless.

A "Return, O Return" poem, and a lonely last word.

And at present, the entire Longcheng County is still the "sword furnace" of the Craftsman, which can turn into emptiness and hide at will.

Master Ma climbed out of the underground palace alone again.

Inside the Merit Tower, there were still more than 7,700 merit points left.

Fei Zhiwei tumbled and fell, leaning against the wellhead, panting heavily, lowering his head to tear cloth to treat the wound. The sunlight above his head stung him, making him squint, and he raised his hand to shade his eyes.

The positions overlapped completely.

A light spot of engraving continued to fly out from the fingertips, carving lines of hurried cursive script on the four walls of the underground palace.

But the death of the predecessor was exchanged for the life of the successor.

Suddenly discovered that this Xin Dingjian actually had a temper.

He sat cross-legged on the lotus pedestal, in the same posture as Master Ma sitting on the lotus pedestal just now.

But he couldn't go out.

"All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, shadows, like dew and like lightning, should be viewed as such."

Purple mist surged in his palm, wrapping around the mask.

Master Ma lowered his head and slowly put it on.

It was not the well cover missing place where he tripped when he worshipped Buddha in his previous life. An hour later.

"Where is there any Pure Land of Rebirth..."

Therefore, Zhong Liu Zilin sat alone in the secret underground palace under the Ouyang Rong Lotus Tower, using only the three conditions of Grade 4, sword technique, and true name to directly manifest the newly baked Xin Dingjian and hide it in the underground palace.

At this moment, "rolling thick smoke" outlined by gray moonlight was continuously pouring into the underground palace from the cave entrance.

Outside the underground palace, the Ouyang Rong high monks who covered for Zhong Liu Zilin were almost all dead, and the ancient buildings of Fei Zhiwei, including the Lotus Tower, became a scorched earth.

That one person, one sword, and the headless corpses all over the ground formed a bizarre picture.

This strange moonlight filling the underground palace seemed to contain spirituality, still unable to forget the scene witnessed a hundred years ago, and told it to future generations tirelessly.

He licked his dry lips, closed his eyes, opened them again, the purple Qi disappeared, and bell sounds rang in his ears.

The Zhong Liu Zilin who left behind a line of inheritance didn't know that the fire in the Lotus Tower outside the underground palace burned for a long, long time, and the rolling white smoke continuously filled the underground palace, and the inscriptions on the walls were thickly covered by white ash.

Fei Zhiwei leaned against the wall, turned his head indifferently, and looked around the Pure Land Underground Palace. This scene didn't know how long it lasted.

At the fingertips of his two raised fingers, a light spot seemed to be entangled.

Master Ma murmured, his hunched body clutching his stomach swaying, and he suddenly saw several wellheads swaying in front of him, a dizziness caused by excessive blood loss.

A moment later, at the wellhead, a bloody hand suddenly stretched out toward the sky and grabbed the edge.

The one-sided slaughter just now seemed to have nothing to do with it. Fei Zhiwei climbed up silently.

From the last words behind the sword technique, it can be known that this Zhong Fei Zhiwei was actually the last Qi refiner of Ouyang Rong, or... the last sword-wielder who mastered the "Cold Scholar" sword technique.

Master Ma's hands trembled as he went to pick up the bronze beast mask.

His fingers touched the crack on the mural and touched the white ash old wall behind the gap.

"Get lost."

As if he didn't see Fei Zhiwei beside him, and the corpses all over the ground.

Back then, on the day the mad emperor finished casting the sword, the Mei family sword casters, like the old gentleman today, deliberately concealed the truth of the "vessel of emptiness"—in fact, the entire Longcheng County was a sword furnace, not only for the first sword washing of the newborn Xin Dingjian, but also as its vessel of emptiness.

As a result, fortune played with people. The Southern Royal Family was as fragile as paper and perished early. It was also the girl who harmed the needlework. The embryo of the Xin Dingjian, which was half-cast, fell into the hands of the mad emperor. The mad emperor ordered the Longcheng Mei family to continue casting the sword.

A sword sheath tied with a rope suddenly flew out of a wellhead protected by stone railings, and fell outside the wellhead. With a "clatter," the sword sheath got stuck in the gap of the stone railings.

Behind the mural, Master Ma's body swayed, and he supported the wall with both hands before he could barely stand.

In the spacious underground palace, a strange figure suddenly appeared—the moonlight at the lotus pedestal condensed a bit, slowly and regularly gathered, and finally outlined the shadow of a monk wearing a cassock.

There was a faint clear blue halo, softly falling on Ouyang Rong's hair below.

Then...

Repeatedly outlined over and over again.

The bond of blood being thicker than water in the heart still existed steadily, and couldn't be shaken off.

The monk in the cassock used this as a pen, and where he left the words was exactly where the five dazzling characters "Return, O Return" were at this moment.

In the beam of sunlight above his head, there was a lonely hanging "arc," which he didn't look at at all.

On the lotus pedestal, the monk in the cassock coughed incessantly like Fei Zhiwei, but it was because of the thick white smoke produced by the fire in the Lotus Tower outside pouring in.

Zhong Liu Zilin also imprisoned himself, trapped in the oxygen-deprived underground palace.

The orthodox Qi refiners of Ouyang Rong were all dead, and the Lotus Tower collection room that kept the sword technique and sect Qi-refining techniques also turned to ashes.

On the four walls of the underground palace, the moonlight emitted by the lines of the "Return, O Return" poem became more and more intense. The moonlight was cold and clear, covering every corner of the underground palace.

The young man's blood-stained face pulled out a miserable smile, raised his head and reached out, pointing to the blue sky and white clouds outside the wellhead:

As if he had finished writing the five characters "Return, O Return" on the stone slab, he slowly raised his head and looked toward the cave entrance above his head.

As for why Tao Yuanming five hundred years ago was the sword master of the "Cold Scholar," and what kind of fate he had, it is temporarily unknown.

The new generation of monks who restarted the ruins and buried the underground palace decades later must not have discovered the carvings behind the white ash, and even misunderstood Zhong Liu Zilin's suffocating nirvana, thinking it was becoming a Buddha in the flesh.

Master Ma picked up the sword, climbed up, and staggered toward the mural wall on the east side.

It's just that...

"A-Shan, you saw it all... Liu Zi'an is dead, Donglin Temple is also dead. Now only the accomplices Wei Shaoxuan, Qiu Shenji, and Liu Fu are left. Don't worry, one by one..."

This scene was somewhat familiar.

Outside the wellhead, there were the roars of the mad emperor raiding the temple and beheading, the crackling sounds of Buddhist scriptures and pagodas burning in the flames, and the wails and pleas of the monks... coming across a hundred years of time.

That was why Master Ma saw in the strange light and shadow the act of Zhong Liu Zilin carving on the wall behind the lotus pedestal, leaving behind sword techniques and last words.

And from the perspective of outsiders, at this time, the light and shadow images outlined by moonlight in the entire underground palace were much dimmer, realistically reproduced.

The next second, the rope ladder that had been hanging at the wellhead suddenly broke and fell down innocently.

He also became... a sword-wielder of a new Xin Dingjian.

Well, just like the smile of a certain newly promoted first sword master in the past, harmless to humans and animals.

As if playing and leaving, not wanting to pay attention to someone.

Master Ma suddenly realized not long ago that the vessel of emptiness for the Xin Dingjian was not a fixed physical object like a sword box, but the entire Longcheng County.

According to Zhong Fei Zhiwei's last words, this "Cold Scholar" sword technique was given to the then-host abbot friend of Fei Zhiwei by Tao Yuanming of the Eastern Jin Dynasty after he retired. The inheritance spanned the entire Southern Dynasties. During this period, the Cold Scholar sword technique was passed down directly among the successive abbots of Ouyang Rong.

The dust of history was swept away for a short time, becoming brand new.

"It's Master's uselessness, fearing death, and failing to go down to accompany you."

Back then, during the struggle of the Northern and Southern Dynasties, facing the Southern expedition of the Northern Sui, the Southern Royal Family pinned their last hope on the Xin Dingjian.

So the two sides worked together inside and outside, tacitly and adventurously stealing the Xin Dingjian newly cast by the mad emperor by Butterfly Creek.

If it weren't for the appearance of this strange moonlight, he wouldn't have been able to see the remaining stone carvings under the black ash today.

Its gray moonlight merged with the dazzling moonlight blooming from the stone carvings at this moment.

An "arc" hung in the air above Ouyang Rong's head. Master Ma lowered his head in silence...

So they happily renovated the underground palace, covered the old walls with new murals, and publicized the miracle of Pure Land ascension everywhere, ignoring the truly precious heritage left by Zhong Liu Zilin.

In the underground palace, the strangely stimulated moonlight was silently reproducing the light and shadow of a hundred years ago.

It was also, Ouyang Lianghan's place of death. The Pure Land Underground Palace fell into a deathly silence.

It was because Zhong Liu Zilin's method of stealing the sword gave him a head-on blow: this was also the reason why Ouyang Rong was qualified to participate in the Lotus Tower Alliance.

He lowered his head and looked at his fingertips stained with white ash. The little guy named "Craftsman" paused.

Just to hide that Xin Dingjian.

He frowned and turned his head sharply. The "arc" in the air disappeared without a trace.

The monk in the cassock outlined by moonlight had a desolate expression on his withered face, mixed with a little sorrow.

This was what he found from the corpse at Donglin Temple, a relic belonging to Liu Zi'an.

The choking white smoke gradually drove away the remaining fresh air in the underground palace.

If I'm not mistaken, the old wall inside should be the original wall of that Lotus Tower underground palace.

The moonlight blooming from the "Return, O Return" five-character stone carving on the lotus pedestal slowly faded.

A young man covered in blood climbed out of the wellhead with difficulty.

The current mural wall was newly built by the Fei Zhiwei monks later.

The most painful thing in this world is that those who want to die didn't die, and when they want to die again, they... lack the courage.

After the newly cast Xin Dingjian was stolen, the mad emperor was naturally furious. A large number of sword craftsmen involved by Butterfly Creek were beheaded, and Ouyang Rong of the path also became a suspect, slaughtered by the mad emperor, and the temple was burned down.

Until the moonlight longsword lying on the ground was picked up by a blurry bloody hand. This time, a group of people went down, and one climbed out.

During the Southern and Northern Dynasties, the Lotus Sect Ouyang Rong, the Longcheng Mei family, and the Lady Yunmeng Yunmeng Yunmeng Jian Ze swore to the great path in the Lotus Tower of this temple, establishing the Lotus Tower Alliance and cooperating sincerely.

The monk in the cassock sat withered on the lotus pedestal, his eyelids slowly drooping in the rolling thick smoke, and finally lowered his head.

As if wanting to get closer.

Master Ma sat down supporting the wall and lowered his head to wipe his mouth.

At some point, the mask suddenly stopped trembling and was completely refined. Without a trace of blood.

It's just that the chaotic slaughter just now exhausted the spiritual energy in his body, and he couldn't force it to appear.

Ouyang Rong, who possessed both the Cold Scholar sword technique and special Buddhist Qi-refining techniques, was more likely to maintain a mythical absolute pulse of sword-wielders with orderly inheritance compared to other sect forces...

The young magistrate laughed and laughed, tears streaming down his blurry bloody face. He lifted the head of Fei Zhiwei in his hand and said:

"Hahaha..."

The monk in the cassock stood with one palm in front of his chest, his eyebrows lowered, and he was earnestly writing something on the floor in front of him.

In mid-air, the "arc" that had been still for a long time moved. ===== CHAPTER 238 =====