He took a quick shower, lay down dejectedly on the stiff bed with a pitifully thin blanket, and tossed and turned for an hour, unable to fall asleep.
So he pretended to be sophisticated and opened the window, then looked up at the moon, intending to sing a few lines to console himself.
She cleared her throat, coughed, and then, like a scholar, put her hands behind her back, looked up at the sky, and cried out in anguish: "The moon is as big as a pancake, and the stars are as small as sesame seeds!"
Actually, there are no stars if there is a moon, but for the sake of rhyming, we can't care about that.
The moon rests quietly on the treetops. In the night, a faint fragrance wafts through the air, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves, like the soft whispers of lovers.
Suddenly, Goruro was overcome with poetic inspiration, his thoughts flowing like milk... He seemed to be really into it, so he continued to sway his head, preparing to delve even deeper into his poetry...
Suddenly, a dark shadow gradually appeared on the moon, its arms outstretched like a large bird, and it leaped down from a great height.
He stood eerily in front of Isoro's window, staring at her face to face, nose to nose.
"Miss Su Ruoruo?" The newcomer had a hooked nose, squinty eyes, high cheekbones, and a face as long as a shoehorn. He chuckled, but it sounded like he was crying.
Huh? Isoro opened his mouth, pointed to his own face, and said, "Miss Su Ruoruo, what kind of scallion are you?"
“I’m not.” Honestly, Ishiro shook his head.
“No, you are,” the newcomer said, pulling up a hastily drawn painting. His eyes darted back and forth between Igoro and the painting. The person in the painting had a head drawn like a winter melon, a body twisted like a quail, dressed in purple with flowing hair, leaning against the window, mouth agape…
What a realistic animal painting!
Xiao Wushilang looked up, his eyes filled with admiration as he gazed at the newcomer. "Whose painting is this? It's so realistic!"
The newcomer seemed unwilling to speak. He impatiently grabbed Goruro by the collar, and with a whoosh, he leaped several feet away, his feet barely touching the leaves.
Held under his arm, Goruro watched him bounce around for a full half hour before finally asking, "Excuse me... Great hero, why do we take the long way around instead of the nearby road..." Even though the main road was wide and smooth, this hero always chose to hop around on the winding rooftops.
Although it looks very cool, the constant bouncing around is ultimately uncomfortable.
The newcomer rolled his eyes and replied, enunciating each word clearly: "This makes my lightness skill seem very mysterious..."
Ah, Isoro suddenly realized something under his armpit.
Not bad, not bad at all, it's truly mysterious.
After the hero continued jumping, leaping over every tiled roof in Jinling City and then jumping over all the steps for a full half hour, Wu Shilang finally realized that he had jumped back to the Youfenglaiyi Inn. Following the gust of wind, he flashed past the middle-class guest rooms and arrived at the lower-class dormitory in a flash.
...Silence. In the dormitory, a group of burly men stood, dressed in tattered clothes and wearing straw sandals with open toes. They all looked anxious, but when they saw the hero arriving with Wu Shilang, they all showed joy.
Some even knelt down and bowed to the sky.
"Miss Su, I've brought it." The swordsman tilted his head at a forty-five-degree angle, his eyes filled with confusion and melancholy as he gazed at the moon. He drew a bamboo sword from behind his waist and held it casually in his arms.
He tried his best to portray himself as a desolate and aloof chivalrous hero.
The group of burly men suddenly became truly agitated, and they all knelt down in front of Ishiro, kowtowing and worshipping, "Miss Su, save us..."
silent……
Isoro scratched his loose hair, looked awkwardly at the group of burly men on the ground, and asked, "I'm not that Miss Su, perhaps you've mistaken me for someone else..."
The group of burly men on the ground immediately turned their heads to look at the hero holding the bamboo sword, their eyes flashing with doubt.
“Miss Su has always been a woman of few words, but there are a few things that never change…” The hero raised his finger and slowly extended the first one, “She doesn’t like to tie her hair up…”
Ishiro remained silent, stroking his loose hair and sighing. He could only tie his hair into a small bun, like a man's, but he could never manage to do a girl's hairstyle, so he simply wore it loose ever since he came in.
"Two..." The hero slowly extended his second finger, "She likes to wear purple, especially flowing purple..." His eyes darted around, and he squinted his eyes as if to appear shrewd, then smiled smugly.
Isoro was even more speechless, following his gaze to his own clothes. Purple, flowing... well, the edges were all torn, the fabric was sticking out in a mess, and when the wind blew, it swayed up and down and left and right, indeed very flowing.
"Three..." The hero revealed his yellowed teeth, tilted his head back triumphantly, and laughed for a long time before finally saying, "She likes to chant spells to the moon!"
Outraged, Goruro almost burst into tears. He had clearly been reciting poetry to the moon! Such a refined thing had been called chanting incantations—how utterly uncultured!
With a whoosh, the group on the ground were filled with surprise and delight, nodding repeatedly, clearly admiring the hero's reasoning to the extreme.
"One last thing," the hero said smugly, shoving his hair back to his slightly balding head, "Miss Su has never admitted that she is Miss Su!"
...Silence fell, and Ishiro fell truly silent. He began to doubt whether he really was that Miss Su.
"Believe me, we Shoehorn Cult never do anything without a certainty!" The Shoehorn-faced hero patted his chest, still feeling unsatisfied, displaying the air of a chivalrous hero, utterly trustworthy.
Then he clasped his hands in a fist salute, and just like before, he tiptoed onto the roof with his toes, kicked off a few tiles before managing to stand firmly, and then quickly darted away.
"Miss Su, help... ah..." In unison, the burly men on the ground kowtowed repeatedly, their faces filled with fear and trepidation, clearly believing the hero's words.
"I didn't..." Thump, thump, thump, before he could finish, the burly men on the ground began to kowtow even louder, one after another, in a long, continuous thud...
"I..." Just as he raised his voice again, suddenly, with a clang, Goruro swallowed the rest of his words. A burly, irritable man had already drawn the broken sword from his waist and placed it against his own neck.
Sobbing and weeping, he cried, "If Miss Su doesn't save us, we have no way to live..."
The remaining burly men followed suit, quickly drawing their swords and pressing them against the first burly man who had placed a sword against his neck. They all looked at Fifty-Lang with a mixture of grief and indignation, their eyes filled with shared hatred.
He had an expression that said, "If you don't admit it, I'll grant your wish." The burly man surrounded by swords was especially filled with grief and indignation.
There was no need to say anything more; if they continued, it would turn into a murder case. Isoro could only nod helplessly and say, "Alright, I agree. However, I need to make a statement..."
"Oh oh oh!" Cheers erupted, completely drowning out the rest of Isoro's sentence!
Wu Shilang stared in disbelief and murmured, "I want to declare that I am really not Miss Su!"
However, no one could hear it.
As soon as it was light, the group of burly men hired a cart and, with a mix of pushing and shoving, shoved Fifty-Lang into it. Three in front and four behind, like escorting a shipment, they set off for Fifty-Lang.
Without even having time to say goodbye to Luo Shao, Wu Shilang suddenly remembered the poison in his body and couldn't help but shudder. Then, feigning nonchalance, he banished it from his memory. Oh well, it's not like it's gone. He'll come back to find him after he's helped these people.
This time we went to the famous Xiejian Villa in the martial arts world.
Unslaughtering Sword Manor is located in southern Anhui. The manor is inhabited by reclusive martial artists who no longer wish to live the bloody and turbulent life of the martial world, so they have washed their hands of the martial world and entered the manor.
There was once an unwritten rule in the martial arts world: once you entered the Unsword Manor, no matter how powerful you were or how famous you were in the past, you would be just like an ordinary person.
Conversely, the manor will protect them and prevent their enemies from harming them.
In its early years, Xiejian Manor was known as the number one manor of martial arts masters. In addition to his reputation for benevolence and righteousness, the manor lords were also prominent figures.
Unfortunately, the glory days of Xiejian Manor are over. With the passing of the men in the manor, apart from the wives of the three stewards, only the renowned young master Wushuang remains.
The young master Leng Wushuang, known as the top handsome man in the martial arts world, is cold-hearted and aloof, and has been devoted to martial arts for many years.
The peerless young master is unparalleled in both appearance and martial arts.
His Drunken Flowing Clouds Swordplay was as elegant as flowing clouds and water, and its power was astonishing. It is said that with one strike, even Mount Huangshan could be split in two.
At the age of twelve, he ventured into the martial world and single-handedly took on the nine gangs and thirteen societies that had been causing trouble in Wuyi Mountain for years.
He became famous overnight.
All of this was learned by Wushilang from the monthly martial arts chronicles. He had been obsessed with the idea of splitting Huangshan Mountain for a long time, spending his days at home carrying an axe and chopping up the artificial mountain. This exhausted Master Xiao, who finally gave an order that no one was allowed to use an axe, and the firewood in the house was chopped by the servants with kitchen knives.
Wu Shilang has a very strange way of thinking. He has a strange infantile mentality towards very strong people. The stronger they are, the more he worships them. When he first saw the Jianghu Chronicles praising Leng Wushuang's Drunken Flowing Cloud Sword as something that was unparalleled in the world, he became obsessed with it for several days, unable to eat or drink.
Now that I have the opportunity to befriend my idol, who is so high and mighty, I'm naturally overjoyed.
Unfortunately, Young Master Leng is not at the manor at the moment. At the beginning of the month, having accepted the invitation to the Sword Appraisal Tournament, this cold and aloof young master set off alone. If such a cold-hearted and aloof person were to have any interests, they would only be sword manuals and precious swords.
The day after they set off, Zhuangli received a strange letter written in blood.
The fonts varied in size and were crooked; the blood colors ranged from dark brown to dark red.
The inscription read: "The wronged soul seeks revenge; the entire family will be wiped out and the swords removed."
Each character was marked with a large, spreading bloodstain. These eight short characters were written with intense hatred, sending chills down the spine of anyone who read them.
When they first received the letter written in blood, the people at the resort didn't care.
After all these years of ups and downs, most of the people in the village used to be people who struggled to survive in the martial arts world. So, when they saw this letter written in blood, they only felt a little stifled at first.
After waiting for several days without any news, everyone became even more relaxed and less vigilant.
The Unloading Sword Manor has always despised talk of ghosts and spirits, so the three steward ladies suppressed the matter. Seeing that no one cared, they secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Now that there are many women and children in the Unloading Sword Manor, they are most afraid of unexpected disputes.
Then, on a day when the moon was full, that's how it happened...
First, there was Master Zhao in the stable, lying there covered in blood, his eyes wide open, his face full of confusion, but showing no signs of struggling. A long gash had been torn open from his throat to his abdomen, his internal organs being dragged out, bloodied and mangled, with varying degrees of damage to his liver and heart.
It's as if it was bitten a few times, then discarded because it wasn't very tasty.
In fact, Master Zhao was a well-known figure in the martial arts world in the past, with his powerful punches. But this time, he didn't even have a chance to defend himself before being disemboweled and his internal organs eaten.
Everyone was terrified and panicked. They took turns looking around, but the killer was very clever and didn't leave a single clue.
The strong stench of blood filled the air of the stable. The Third Madam, who knew no martial arts, vomited on the spot. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she trembled all over. The day after she returned home, she developed a low-grade fever.
Although alarmed, everyone tacitly chose to remain silent, only the patrols around the manor became a little more frequent.
The second person to have an accident was Bihe, the maid of the third wife. She disappeared on the third night after Old Zhao of the stable died.
In front of the dining room of the resort are two large vases, each taller than a person. An ordinary man would have to stand on tiptoe to see what's inside the vases from the mouth. The vases are decorated with pictures of the resort's beautiful river.
It was placed there from the very beginning of the resort.
Every day, someone wipes them clean.
The day after Bihe disappeared, the maid on duty went to wipe the vase as usual. A strand of dark, shiny hair hung down from the inside of the tall vase, gleaming in the sunlight.
As if possessed, the wiping maid stepped forward, mechanically reached out and grabbed the slick of black hair, then pulled it slightly, and blood gushed out as the vase tilted over.
It was the head of the lotus, stuck at the narrowest part of the vase.
His eyes were wide open, his face filled with grief and indignation.
Below the head, everything turned into bloody, foul-smelling, sticky liquid.
The little girl wiping the clothes was so shocked that she fainted on the spot.
This shocked the entire manor. The Third Madam wept bitterly, fainted several times, and swore to heaven that she had seen shadowy figures floating in the night. She claimed that the manor was haunted and insisted on moving out of the manor.
The second wife was a devout Buddhist, spending several days in a row in the Buddhist hall chanting and meditating. Servants bringing meals had to give a secret signal beforehand, such as: "I am the most beautiful woman in the family." Of course, the servants could reply: "We prospered entirely thanks to the Buddha's blessings..."
The First Madam had the most resolute character, so she simply took up her Qingfeng sword every night and became the head of the guards.
For several nights in a row, nothing happened.
On the sixth day, that evening, the First Madam was patrolling the manor as usual, carrying her sword. Suddenly, a bright red light flashed from the dark bamboo forest, passing by in a flash. The First Madam watched as the guard walking in front of her was slowly split in two. The moon was bright and the stars were few, illuminating the backyard. The guard lying on the ground did not shed a drop of blood, nor did he utter a sound.
And just like that, his eyes wide open as he fell and split in two.
Even though the First Madam was resolute, she was still a lady who had long lived a life of luxury. She was so frightened that she collapsed to the ground. From then on, no one in the manor suspected that it was the work of a vengeful ghost.
In an instant, people became even more anxious.