Chapter 213: [Dragon Mountain] Battle to the Death

Although Changying was a long time ago, there are many scrolls with his portrait on them and the Confucianism School has a majestic jade sculpture of the first master, so Ye Wangxi reacted almost instantly: " Si, open the boundary, you can't defeat him! "

Of course you can't beat them.

Who can beat

I'm afraid that even Chu Wanning, the strongest Grandmaster in Xianxia today, would not stand a chance against him.

Nangong Si was trembling, but not with fear, but with a feeling of extreme sadness and anger that Xu Shuanglin had made a pawn of Zhenlong out of the remains of the great master.

Crazy

It's really crazy

It is their ancestor, the soul of the School of Confucianism, the root of the School of Confucianism, the deity revered by generations of disciples and heirs over the centuries.

It's Nangong Changying!

Nangong Si's neck was throbbing with veins as he let out a twisted roar, like a tiger roaring in the mountains: " Xu Shuanglin No, Nan Gongxu, come out of there."

The aftermath is like the sound of a vulture circling around for a long time.

No one answered him, and Xu Shuanglin certainly did not come out. The only one who responds is Nangong Changying, whose eyes are blinded by a silk band, and he turns his face slightly, his pale fingers sliding the scabbard as the buried sword emerges from its box, the dragon light shining through.

With his sword in hand, he slowly took another step down.

Nangong Si, meanwhile, took a step back, muttering, "Tae palm."

Nangong Changying walks steadily, the tip of his sword tapping on the jade steps with an ear-splitting scrape. His eyes are blinded and the palisade, tied by a spell after death, cannot be removed, so he cannot see the path in front of him and can only rely on the sound and smell to determine Nangong Si's location.

"Who art thou?"

Suddenly, a low, indistinct voice rang out.

It was Nangong Changying who was speaking

"Why are you trespassing here?"

Hearing an ancestor from centuries past speak, even as a Zhenlong pawn, was extremely shocking.

Nangong Si swallowed his saliva and said, "Tae palm, I"

""

He suddenly let go of the long sword he was holding and bowed to the ground: "My humble servant, the seventh generation of the Confucianism School, Nangong Si, pays his respects."

"Seventh Generation Team" Changying's corpse repeated these words sluggishly and numbly, before shaking his head, raising his sword and saying just one word, "Kill."

(fig.) clash of blades

Nangong Si With his blow, all he felt was a sore arm, the force of his ancestor was astonishingly strong, a corpse-white face looming and a breath like ice.

"Those who trespass, kill them."

"The Great Master"

The sword blows were dazzling, the swords were all powerful and astonishing, iron blades clanging against iron blades, splashes of fire and flashes of snow.

Xue Zhengyong hammered his fist on the boundary and said, "Are you crazy? How can you possibly beat that?"

It is said that Nangong Changying's strength was so great that he could smash rocks to pieces with one hand, even without a weapon.

Against him

I'm afraid ten Nangong Si's would not be enough to pinch and play with their own ancestors.

Nangong Si's mind was almost blank. He could never have imagined that he would one day be pitted against the first master of the School of Confucianism on Dragon Mountain, and with this first clash of swords he was knocked back ten feet.

Nangong Changying raises his sword and slowly approaches again.

He repeated the command in a low voice: "Kill"

Outside the boundary, Xue Zhengyong was hammering at the membrane with annoyance, Jiang Xi was frowning, pursing his lips and not saying a word, and Master Ma simply covered his eyes and dared not look. If he had tied Nangong Si up and come to Dragon Mountain alone, he would have been the one to face the first head of the Confucianism School.

Only Chu Wanning watched Nangong Changying's movements without blinking, he felt something was wrong, really wrong.

Who is Nangong Changying?

If you look at the two evil beasts he has subdued, one is a demon dragon and the other is a gun, both ancient evil beasts, there is no need to say how terrifying this man's spiritual power is. Even though his soul has long since left his body and what remains in the world is just a shell, and he is unable to perform many spells, it is clear that his fighting should not be affected.

So how fierce is Nangong Changying's fighting style?

Near Feihua Island in the East Pole is the much vaunted relic of the Confucianism School, a lake in an island.

The lake is not too big, not too small, and it is stagnant, with no magnificent scenery, and it takes about half an hour to walk around it in an unhurried manner.

However, as everyone knows, this lake was not a lake, but a small hill, which was used by Nangong Changying to hide from Gun during his fierce battles. The mountain collapsed and the ground cracked, and from then on the mountains ceased to exist, and the rain accumulated into a pool, giving rise to this lake in later times.

So it's not that Chu Wanning underestimated Nangong Si, but he felt that by the time Nangong Changying's first sword came up against him, Nangong Si should have flown a hundred feet away and would never have had a chance to get up.

There's something fishy about this body.

Chu Wanning's gaze scrapes across every inch of Nangong Changying's body like a shiny blade.

Suddenly, his sharp gaze fell on the arm of Nangong Changying as he carried his sword, and he paused, his mind lighting up in a flash as he realised what was wrong

Over there, Nangong Si was struggling with his sword and staggering to his feet, like his wolf-dogs, he could lose, but he would never run. He wiped the blood from the corner of his lip with his sleeve and was about to fight again when he heard a familiar voice behind him say, "Hit him on the left, his left arm has been cut off."

" Master Chu "

"Don't lose focus." Chu Wanning stood outside the boundary, his brown eyes staring at the two men's splitting moves, "Even if Nangong Changying has broken his left arm, we can't take it lightly."

When they heard Chu Wanning's comment, several of the surrounding masters focused their attention on Changying's left arm, which was found to be limp and weak, and Xue Zhengyong exclaimed, " Was Changying's meridians severed after his death?

No one answered.

But those as familiar with Changying's life as Ye Wangxi were quick to understand.

Who did this who in the world would have picked his meridians and who could have picked his meridians

Nangong Si, who is fighting with Nangong Changying, stares at the face of his ancestor, a face so unmistakable from the jade carving of the Hall of Sages that it is as if Nangong Changying were still alive on this earth and had never gone to his death.

If he really is still alive, if he really is not dead, if these centuries of years are written off, then is one not, at this moment, being tested by the first master, being tested by him, being taught by him

"Nangong Si's consciousness returned to his body and, with a stern voice, he drank in the demon wolf, flipped onto his back and attacked with great speed, keeping his eyes on the Changying master's left arm.

A scene from early childhood flashed before my eyes.

He stood in front of the magnificent jade sculpture of the Hall of Pioneers and looked askance at the statue of the Primeval Master.

A child's perspective is always strange, and he suddenly turned to Rong Yan and said, "Mother, this statue, it's not done yet."

"Why isn't it done?" Rong Yan, dragging his luxurious robe and covering his mouth with a handkerchief, coughed gently as he paced up to the child and looked up at the statue of Changying's master, "Isn't it nice and lifelike?"

"Can't understand it."

Rong Yan sighed, she was an impatient person who could not cram into her son's head in two years what would take someone else twenty years to learn: "It's carving like a living person, every detail is vivid. Didn't I teach you both of these words last time?"

Nangong Si bristled and said, "But it's the wrong carving."

"What's wrong with that?"

" Mother, look." He pointed to the left arm of the first Master and then to the right, "The left arm is thicker than the right, I've been staring at it for a long time now, there must be thick and thin carvings, it's not symmetrical at all, wrong, wrong"

He held up both his arms to Rong Yan, and he seriously reasoned with his mother: "My arms are the same thickness on both sides, and so are Mother's and Father's. So this is a mistake, let the craftsman recreate it."

"So that's what Nangong Si meant." Rong Yan shook his head and said, "This is not the fault of the artisans, but the original left and right arms of the Master Tai were a little off."

"Why is it natural?"

"Naturally, it's not natural." Rong Yan said, "Master Tai used to use his left hand, and the strength of his left arm was much greater than that of his right, and gradually, over time, the left side would become thicker and stronger than the right. So rather than making a mistake, the craftsman who carved this statue took great care to notice these subtleties."

"Clang."

The two long blades come face to face, Nangong Si and Nangong Changying face to face, gritting their teeth against each other across the starbursts.

Nangong Changying, who had lost his usual left hand, took on a battered and bruised Nangong Si, who was using his last ounce of strength. It was a physical battle.

Xue Zhengyong had a thought that took his breath away: "The meridian in his left arm, could it be that he didn't just cut it off himself?"

In fact, not only Xue Zhengyong, but also many people watching the battle from outside the boundary, gradually had this suspicion in their minds.

The Confucianism School is a school where, from the time of burial, the eyes are covered with a silk band of spiritual power, in order to "travel by crane and see the clouds".

Is it possible that Nangong Changying was more or less anticipating the vicissitudes of the human world over the centuries?

So, when he founded the School of Confucianism, he had already thought of the twilight of the end of the School of Confucianism, and the reason why he blindfolded each of the buried disciples was so that they would not be able to use their greatest power in battle and would not be able to do harm to the world.

So Shenwu, who accompanied him throughout his life, is not in the coffin, but carries only a long sword.

So, before he died, he severed all the meridians in his left arm, so that even if some unrighteous person did rise up with his corpse in the future, he would not be able to get his full battle power.

But the answer is ultimately unknown.

A dozen rounds of hand-to-hand combat were in full swing when Nangong Si suddenly caught a glimpse of Tae Mo's brow furrowing slightly and muttered, " Nangong Si 7th Generation"

Outside the knot, Mo Ran stares intently at Nangong Changying's every move. As the Fairy Tramper emperor, he looks at things differently from all the decent people in the room, and he is able to detect things that would be difficult for someone who has not played the game of Zhenlong to detect immediately.

To Mo Ran, it was clear that this corpse was different from the rest, as he seemed to have been struggling to regain his consciousness in life.

This is what Mo Ran was worried about earlier. Although the Zhenlong game is one of the three forbidden spells, no spell in the world is perfect, and if a person is particularly strong-willed, the wielder must apply a constant stream of spirits to the person in order to suppress the resistance of the pieces.

This is why many of those who have been in control of the Zhenlong Game over the years have suddenly died of maladies, or have had their meridians reversed and died a violent death.

Mo Ran's face is sunken and his eyes follow Nangong Changying.

He could almost conclude that Xu Shuanglin was not in full control of Nangong Changying.

"Bang."

A sharp muffled thud caused Mo Ran's five fingers stroking the knot to squeeze tightly, tendons protruding.

The difference in strength is still too great.

Everyone in the room could see clearly that even if Nangong Changying had broken his main arm and cut his strength, a Grandmaster was still a Grandmaster, and even with his sharp claws removed, this empty corpse could still fight to a draw with juniors of Mei Hanxue's and Xue Meng's calibre.

If we really want to suppress him, I'm afraid we still have to let someone at the level of Sect Leader and Elder make a move.

But neither the Sect Master nor the Elders can enter, the boundary is sealed off and the Nangong clan's territory is inside, so any of them rushing in will cause the Dragon Mountain spirits to flare up, which will then help.

This is a civil war in the School of Confucianism and no one can interfere.

If Nangong Si had been at full strength, he could probably have taken care of the corpse in front of him on his own, but he had suffered too much already. Nangong Si could have dodged the blow, but when he tugged Nao Baijin's neck ring and rolled onto his back, his palm was torn and he couldn't pull on it.

"Oooh."

Nao Baijin let out a cry of grief as the sword in Nangong Si's hand was knocked off and sent flying, clanging and rolling down to the edge of the boundary.

Mo Ran saw that the hilt of the sword was stained with blood from Nangong Si's palm

"Si don't fight you come out we'll think of something else" Ye Wangxi shouted at him again uncontrollably.

As is always the case, Ye Wangxi herself will not beg for mercy, but Nangong Si is her weakness.

She was crying, uncontrollably.

Mo Ran had never seen her cry like this in her previous life, and now she was really looking like a girl, with the brothers Nan Gongliu and Nan Gongxu putting a rigid, cold mask over her face for selfish reasons.

It was a mask she had always felt she would never be able to take off for the rest of her life, but it went up in smoke the moment she saw the blood-stained sabre.

" Si "

The blow was so hard that Nangong Si gritted his teeth, beaded with sweat, and tried to get up from the ground without uttering a word, but a cold light flashed and a sharp, snowy blade reflected on his side.

Nangong Si gasped slightly and raised a face that slightly resembled Nangong Changying's, staring up at his ancestor through the bright light of the sword.

Nangong Changying's sword was already hanging directly above him.

Inside and outside the boundary, there was a sudden dead silence.