"Is she at the Sword Removal Manor?" The person in the pool stood up from the water, her long, satin-like hair cascading down to her waist, her face, still wet with water droplets, glowing with a hint of pink, exceptionally beautiful.
The servant by the pool immediately suffered a nosebleed of two liters and a brain hemorrhage...
Unfortunately, the beautiful scenery was soon shattered.
The circling white dove, its feathers trembling slightly, slumped over and actually left a ball of white dove droppings on the beauty's head.
The servant immediately looked at the person in the pool in a panic, stammering an explanation: "Well, young master, the pigeons have been eating corn lately, so it's normal for a couple to get diarrhea occasionally..."
The handsome man in the pool twitched at the corner of his mouth, his hand holding the secret letter trembling as if he were having a stroke. Then, he silently crumpled the paper into a ball, held it between his index fingers, and flicked it into the air with a livid face...
Sure enough, what was knocked down was a plump white dove, its legs trapped between the handsome man's, its eyes looking innocent...
The servant by the pond broke out in a cold sweat and continued to explain, "Young master, I recognize this pigeon. Its nickname is 'Little Fifty,' a tribute to the time when we bought 50 pigeons. Speaking of which, this pigeon is greedy and loves to sleep..."
The handsome man in the pond heard the fifty-two words, his eyes flickered, he lowered his head and looked into the innocent and dazed eyes of the pigeon in his hand, then chuckled softly: "Greedy and sleepy, it really does resemble someone's habits." As he chuckled, he gently released his index finger from the pigeon's foot, "I'll spare you this time because you have a good name."
The fat, silly pigeon, as soon as it was put down, immediately landed on the handsome man's head, flapped its wings and wiggled its rump, and continued its struggle... leaving behind an even bigger pile of white pigeon droppings.
Together with the previous clump, it looked like a large cosmos flower blooming on Young Master Luo's head.
The servant by the pool finally couldn't take the blow, rolled his eyes, and immediately fainted.
How could I not feel dizzy? Everyone in the manor knows that our young master is a germaphobe.
So the only option is to scare the enemy into fainting before being knocked unconscious...
"Hahahaha..." Unexpectedly, the man in the water was not angry, but instead laughed heartily, his bright eyes full of joy, "Giro, there are actually animals like you."
As he laughed, he soon calmed down. With his head covered in pigeon droppings, Luo Jinfeng stared blankly at the plump white pigeon on the shore, her tender red lips curving slightly, her eyes full of gentle smiles.
Alright. If the mountain won't come to me, then I'll go to the mountain.
So, Igoro, if you don't come looking for me, I'll come looking for you...
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Far away, at the entrance of the Unloading Sword Manor, Wu Shilang, who was unloading luggage, sneezed violently, tears and snot streaming down her face. She rubbed her nose hard with her hand, making her small nose red and swollen.
"Put it on." Leng Wushuang tossed the cloak she was wearing far away, her cold eyes expressionless: "The journey is long, I don't want to travel with a sick ghost."
Even if the words are full of affection, they always come out cold and indifferent.
Fortunately, Ishiro had been used to sweet talk since childhood, so when others were a little cold to her, she would think that they were being kind to her from the bottom of their hearts.
Her eyes and nose were all swirled up from laughing.
"Wu Shilang, you must take good care of Shuang'er for me." The First Madam held Wu Shilang's hand and gave him instructions again and again, covering everything from Leng Wushuang's temperament and habits to her eating habits.
Leng Wushuang listened silently from the side, but as time went on, her patience gradually wore thin.
With a long arm, he hooked his arm around Wu Shilang's waist and pulled her over. Then, he coldly bid farewell to his mother: "Don't see me off, go back to the manor."
"Also, Wushuang's sword tribulation will flare up soon, Wushilang, please keep a close watch on him for me and don't let him overexert himself." The First Madam said her final farewell to Wushilang across the carriage, her eyes brimming with tears.
Isoro poked his head out of the carriage again and tapped it hard.
He shouted, "I will protect him and never leave his side."
Sitting quietly in the car, Leng Wushuang closed his eyes as if in deep meditation. Hearing Wushilang's solemn promise to stay by his side, he couldn't help but smile slightly. However, the moment Wushilang turned back into the car, he reverted to his cold and aloof demeanor.
"Wushuang, where are we going?"
"Find medicine, suppress the poison, go to the Miao village." He was never one for words, and when he did speak, he was concise and clear.
Wu Shilang needs to take medicine to alleviate the effects of the poison before he will have the strength to go to the Miao village to get the medicine.
The journey is long.
It takes a long time.
Therefore, he and she had a lot of time together.
Leng Wushuang's eyes swept over Wu Shilang, finally landing on the Lingxi Sword at her waist. She sighed inwardly, "So...we're going to be tied together after all."
The first place they went to was Sichuan.
Searching for the most elusive and enigmatic healer in the martial arts world.
Legend has it that his pills can bring the dead back to life and the living to immortality. The antidote pill in the Peerless Brocade Pouch is from his hand.
Unfortunately, he had been out of contact for more than a decade.
The last time he appeared was in Shu (Sichuan).
Therefore, the goal of this trip was particularly vague. Even so, Isoro remained very optimistic, holding an apple in his left hand and a pear in his right, munching on them with a crisp and pleasant sound.
The carriage swayed and shook. The driver was someone they had hired at the last minute, and they had agreed that he would only take them for a short distance. Thinking of his wife and children at home, he was driving very fast.
"Turn your back and eat!" Leng Wushuang glared, coldly pointing to the corner of the car seat. "You're too noisy."
Isoro immediately stopped talking, holding up half an apple in his hand, with an urge to scream.
He gave her a cold glare, and without even chewing, she swallowed a piece of apple the size of a coin. It was now stuck in her throat, unable to go up or down.
Help! Someone's going to die!
Goruro clutched his throat with both hands, looking at Leng Wushuang with teary eyes.
"Troublesome." Leng Wushuang, who had been keeping her eyes closed, suddenly opened them and leaned over.
Isoro grabbed his arm, hissing as he pointed to his neck. He had intended to grab his hand to make him more aware of where the apple chunk was stuck, but to his surprise, Leng Wushuang suddenly broke free of his arm. The large hand that Isoro was supposed to be holding slid down her throat and landed on... Isoro's slightly heaving chest.
In an instant, both of them turned to stone.
"Hiss hiss." Goruro was the first to react, his face flushed, his eyes filled with shyness as he pointed at Leng Wushuang's large hand that was groping his chest, swallowing hard.
Leng Wushuang's hand remained wrapped around Wu Shilang's chest until he hissed, it was there all along, and through his palm, one could even hear the rapid pounding of Wu Shilang's heart. His face was flushed, his eyes filled with horror, and he looked as if he had fallen into a deep sleep.
Hearing the hissing sound, Leng Wushuang snapped out of her slumber, her whole body shuddering as if she had seen a ghost. Her body felt as if it had been subjected to the greatest attack, and she reflexively pushed away with both hands...
This finally made Isoro swallow the apple.
"Help!" Flipped around, Wu Shilang was sent flying out of the car by Leng Wushuang's palm strike. He rolled more than a dozen times, trying to protect the apple with his left hand and the pear with his right, making the rolling extremely difficult.
Hearing the screams, the driver turned around and asked, "Young Master Leng, what happened?"
Inside the carriage, Leng Wushuang, her face still flushed from the previous encounter, awkwardly held up her hand, her eyes fixed on her palm. Hearing the driver's question, she answered hesitantly:
"She fell."
The driver immediately and considerately replied, "He was probably still half asleep, so he was taken off the cart."
Isoro lay on his back on the ground, tears streaming down his face.
She was still holding those two pieces of fruit in her hand.
Leng Wushuang jumped down, swept over, and pulled Wushilang up. With a tense expression, she carefully looked her up and down, and after confirming that there was nothing wrong with her, she asked curiously, "Why are you crying?"
"Because the pear was crushed."
She cried her heart out, but it was only because of the wasted food.
Leng Wushuang breathed a sigh of relief, picked up Wushilang in her arms, and walked towards the carriage. Seeing the driver standing by the carriage with a puzzled look on his face, she lowered her head very seriously and said to Wushilang in her arms, "Sleep well and don't roll around."
He spoke those few words with such elegance and composure, as if he had truly fallen asleep and been thrown out of the car.
The driver looked as if he had just realized something.
Isoro was utterly speechless, showing the utmost contempt for his blatant lying in broad daylight.
Her repeated expressions of disdain.
Leng Wushuang automatically chose to ignore it. She closed her eyes, breathed heavily, and sat in meditation with an outwardly calm demeanor, but in reality, she was dozing off as if nothing was wrong.
His slightly trembling eyelashes betrayed his fluctuating emotions.
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By the time the car arrived in town, it was completely dark.
There are very few people in the town.
There wasn't even a decent inn. The only place where we could eat was dilapidated.
The wood has been corroded by time into a grayish-white color, and the originally bright red lanterns have been weathered into a pale grayish-orange color. Every step you take on the floor makes a creaking sound.
The owner wasn't very welcoming when he saw the guests arrive.
"Two superior rooms."
"No……"
The shopkeeper answered quickly and efficiently. "We only have large shared beds here."
People who come here are usually wandering knights or peddlers who are in a hurry to get to the next town. They usually just stay for one night and don't have particularly high requirements for accommodation.
If possible, one can ride at full speed and reach the large town ahead in an hour.
Therefore, the inn only had shared sleeping quarters.
Standing behind Leng Wushuang, Wu Shilang frowned and leaned out to interject, "I don't want to stay in a dormitory; there are fleas there."
The innkeeper sneered and pointed to the path ahead, "You can continue on your way. The town ahead is quite large, and the inn there has superior rooms."
Leng Wushuang gave him a cold look, then tossed out another piece of silver and casually suggested, "We won't stay in the shared room... we'll stay in your bedroom."
The shopkeeper glanced at the silver on the table, then at Leng Wushuang's cold face, and gritted his teeth before refusing, "No way."
Thinking of the fleas covering the bed and the musty smell, Isoro became agitated, drew his sword, and roared, "I want a private room! I want a bath!"
The cyan sword was held in her hand, moving up and down, making the boss feel a chill.
Leng Wushuang silently watched Wushilang's spittle flying everywhere as she shouted, without intending to stop her.
No matter how much Gyuro shouted, the boss kept shaking his head. Although he was very wary of that sword, he had gradually realized that Gyuro had no skill at all.
After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Leng Wushuang finally couldn't hold back any longer. She grabbed Wu Shilang, who was wielding a green sword, drew her own sword, and with a backhand swing, cleanly and neatly split the table in two.
Then, under the boss's stunned gaze, she slowly and elegantly picked up the extra silver coins she had previously added, put them into her sleeve, and coldly and sinisterly commanded, "You, move out."
With an irrefutable aura, he proudly declared that this place belonged to Leng Wushuang.
Look at the overturned counter; the cut is clean and precise, a single, swift stroke. Clearly, the swordsman is a skilled fighter. The shopkeeper was utterly moved to tears, nodding his head vigorously in agreement.
Leng Wushuang's mood instantly improved. She turned around and nodded at Wu Shilang, praising, "Well drawn."
I don't know if he's praising himself or genuinely praising Isoro.