Chapter 42: The Way of the Sword, Mysterious Youth.
"Right, while I'm drawing, you're not allowed to move or change your expression too much. In short, during this time, you are a stone, got it?" Just as Ling Fei was trying his best to muster up the emotions and make the expression that Hua Yue Rong had said, she suddenly popped out with a sentence that almost made Ling Fei choke on his own saliva.
"Come on, sister, I can't take it anymore. Kill me, kill me quickly." Ling Fei stood up in despair, crying and facing Hua Yue Rou.
"Cut the nonsense. I'm in a bad mood, sit down quickly and let me finish my painting so you can leave." Huayue Rou said with an unquestionable tone after glancing at Ling Fei.
Ling Fei had no choice but to sit back down, lightly coughing once; "I'm saying, Big Sister, what kind of expression do you want me to make? Or should I just cry one out for you?"
"I've told you, the theme is injury, you can express yourself freely. If I'm not satisfied, don't think about leaving." Huayue Rong was already fully immersed in her painting, occasionally glancing at Ling Fei as if considering how to proceed with her brushstrokes.
"Ah..." Ling Fei let out a soft sigh, gazing out the window, his fingers habitually making a cigarette-holding gesture. Just then, Hua Yue Rou exclaimed in surprise; "Don't move! That's exactly the expression!"
Ling Fei immediately froze his movements and expressions, as if he had really turned into a stone statue.
Huā yuè róu ná qǐ bǐ jiù zài huà zhǐ shàng fēi kuài de huī wǔ, sù dù kuài de ràng rén mù dāng kǒu dāi, zhè nǎ shì huà huà? Zhè jiù shì zài xiā huà.
Translation:
Hua Yue Rou picked up the brush and swiftly waved it on the drawing paper, so fast that it left people stunned, what kind of painting is this? This is simply reckless scribbling.
Under her hands, a person's outline slowly emerged on the painting paper, showing Huā Yuè Róu's superb painting skills.
……
Just as Ling Fei was forced to be a model, a dark undercurrent slowly began to surge...
"Are you prepared to die?" In Japan, in a cherry blossom forest, the cherry blossoms were dancing beautifully in the wind. A middle-aged man wearing a kimono, with a symbolic small mustache and long hair tied up, had his arms crossed over his chest, holding a sword, and was muttering to himself with his eyes closed.
The cherry blossoms dancing in the air didn't fall on this middle-aged man, as if there was a thin protective film around him that could isolate the cherry blossoms.
The middle-aged man muttered to himself and slowly opened his eyes, looking forward. A young man stood not far away, with four swords on his back, each of which looked strange but similar to ancient Chinese swords.
The young man was also holding a Tang sword in his hand and meditating with his eyes closed.
The young man's appearance was quite handsome, looking no more than eighteen years old. His medium-length hair fluttered in the gentle breeze, and a faint smile hung at the corner of his mouth.
"Jianmo, you killed more than 30 excellent warriors of our great nation. This account must be settled today." The middle-aged man spoke in poor Mandarin to the young man with anger.
The young man slowly opened his eyes, smoothed out the wrinkles on his black t-shirt, and smiled: "Moving one's energy before moving one's hands is a major taboo in martial arts. Be careful not to die without knowing what happened."
"You!" The middle-aged man seemed to be enraged by the young man's calm attitude, and he took a step forward, kicking up a large patch of cherry blossoms. Once again, amidst the cherry blossoms floating in mid-air...
"What's with you? Do you have something to say?" The young man drew out his Tang knife, discarding the scabbard. With a flick of the blade, a clear and piercing whirring sound arose, as if a substantial killing intent was released in a semicircle, like a sharp blade flying towards the middle-aged man, sweeping away cherry blossoms wherever it passed.
"Hah!" The middle-aged man also drew out the * in his hand, casually threw away the scabbard, raised the * and turned around, slashing at the intangible killing intent emitted by the young man with a slanted knife.
"Hum!......" The murderous aura was invisible, but it still made the middle-aged man's hand tremble uncontrollably.
The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow, knowing that the young man was a tough cookie, and said in a low voice: "Sword Demon, I want to know why you want to kill our great warrior of Dahan?"
The young man waved the Tang knife in his hand, looking at the blade that was emitting a cold glow, and his eyes showed a sense of longing; "I want to pursue the pinnacle of swordsmanship. My teacher once told me that there are three paths of the sword: one is entering the sword, two is killing with the sword, and three is the heart of the sword. And I have just entered the second stage."
"After saying that, the young man didn't want to make any more explanations, but still said in a low voice: 'Do you know why I'm called Sword Demon?'"
"Why?" The middle-aged man was deeply moved by what he had just heard, but suddenly heard the young man's question and asked subconsciously.
"Because only a demon can bring the word 'kill' to its peak." As soon as he finished speaking, the young man disappeared on the spot, his residual shadow slowly disappearing, and his extremely fast speed did not stir up even a single cherry blossom petal. Extremely eerie.
A middle-aged man carefully raised his sword, looked around and thought to himself: "Killing Sword, what a killing sword! Let's see if my great martial arts spirit stands tall or if your so-called Three Swords are stronger!"
As he was thinking, the middle-aged man's keen intuition sensed a strong killing intent coming from above, and he hurriedly swung his sword upwards. A sound of metal clashing against metal rang out.
The middle-aged man only felt his wrist go numb, and with a twist of his body, he dodged the force, his figure spinning around, a burst of strong wind whistling by.
"Your sword is just a shallow child's play." The young man's voice came, the middle-aged man looked around, but didn't find the young man's figure, and for the first time, fear arose in his heart.
"You... don't hide and sneak around! If you're a man, come out and duel with me one on one!" the middle-aged man bellowed.
"Thud, thud, thud." A series of footsteps came from behind the middle-aged man, who quickly turned around. The young man was strolling along with a Tang sword slung over his shoulder and an apple in his mouth.
"Really? You want fairness?" The young man bit into an apple and asked vaguely.
"Ah!!" The middle-aged man roared, his foot stomping down, his body transformed into a flash of shadow. A brilliant sword light flashed by, and the young man's body didn't even flinch. The middle-aged man stared at the broken sword in his hand in shock.
"Impossible! Impossible! You... how did you shatter my Flowing Light?!" The middle-aged man turned around hastily, questioning the young man.
The young man's posture was still the same, carrying a Tang sword, with one hand holding an apple and bringing it to his mouth.
The middle-aged man suddenly noticed that one of the four swords behind the young man was slowly returning to its scabbard, as if he had thought of something, but felt it was impossible, and his facial expression changed in a thousand ways.
"With air controlling the sword, you're not wrong, this is indeed with air controlling the sword." The young man seemed to guess the middle-aged man's thoughts and said lightly. He threw away the apple core, still chewing on an apple, turned around to face the middle-aged man, one hand inserted the Tang knife into the ground, and patted his hand.
"Come on, let's end this farce." The young man said indifferently and flashed behind the middle-aged man in the next moment.
"Clang." The sword returned to its scabbard, a crisp sound, the young man withdrew his hand from behind his back, twisted his neck, and looked eastward, muttering; "Thirty-fifth, Master, I did it, Japan's top swordsman, I killed thirty-five people, I think...I can return to my homeland, to find more masters, and reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship?!"
As he said this, a look of excitement flashed in the young man's eyes, and with a slow step, he disappeared into the cherry blossom forest, never looking back at the middle-aged man again.
At this moment, the middle-aged man looked incredulously at his own chest, "Ah!!" A wound stretched from the left chest to the right abdomen, ferocious and terrifying, with blood gushing out like a fountain.
"Good... good... so fast..." The middle-aged man only had time to sigh before he died, and with a look of horror and doubt about his young identity, he fell into hell.
……
"My big sister, aren't you done yet? My face is about to cramp up." Ling Fei had been maintaining the pose that Hua Yue Rou had him do for almost half an hour, but Hua Yue Rou still didn't seem ready to call it quits.
Ling Fei couldn't help but ask stiffly.
"Shut up, it'll be soon, just wait another ten minutes." Huayue Rou glanced at him and continued to draw on the paper.
Carefully looking, a person with 80% resemblance to Ling Fei has appeared on the paper, with a faintly melancholic expression, and a hint of vicissitude in his eyes gazing out the window. One hand is raised to his chest, with two fingers spread apart, as if holding a cigarette. Hua Yue Rou looked at it, felt dissatisfied with some parts, and quickly erased them to continue.
Ling Fei sighed in his heart; "How did I end up with such a little ancestor?"
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh." Ten minutes later, Huayue Rou added a few more strokes and finally stretched her waist, revealing her slender figure. However, the only spectator, Ling Fei, didn't have the heart to appreciate the beauty in front of him. His facial muscles were already cramped, aching unbearably, his whole body numb, on the verge of going berserk.
"Alright, you go first." Huayue Rou smiled slightly and looked at Ling Fei.
