Waste only needs a system, I am strong only by myself

"Man is one, sword is two."

"Don't put the cart before the horse."

"Then the question arises again, what is a sword?"

Zhang Hao glanced over.

The eyes that are blessed by the system and contain the light of heaven make people fall into self-contemplation.

"In my opinion, your swordsmanship is too mediocre, without any brilliance. You put the sword first, ignoring the spirit of people."

"Lacks a real central idea!"

Everyone is puzzled.

What is the spirit and central idea of ​​Kendo?

Zhang Hao suddenly showed nostalgic expression.

"The essence of kendo, the central idea of ​​man and sword."

"I have Chinese ancestors. Although I am a mortal, the spirit will last forever."

"I said, you understand."

"Just this once."

Zhang Hao raised his head at a 45-degree angle, he was brewing feelings.

"Three thousand guests are full of flowers and drunk, and one sword is frosty and cold in fourteen states. The drum horns lift the sky and the air is cold, and the wind shakes the sea and mountains in autumn."

boom!
Everyone's ears roared like thunder.

The voice of heaven is endless.

Zhang Hao spoke faster and faster.

One after another verses full of spirit and spirit popped out of his mouth.

"Raise your head in the clouds floating in the northwest, relying on the sky for thousands of miles, you must have a long sword. People say that here, you will see each other long at night, and the bullfight is blazing."

"In drunkenness, light up the lamp to look at the sword, and dream of blowing the corner of the company's camp. Eight hundred miles of subordinates are burned, fifty strings are turned outside the fortress, and soldiers are ordered in autumn."

"The silver saddle shines on the white horse, and it rustles like a shooting star. Killing a man in ten steps will never stop him for a thousand miles. When it's done, brush off your clothes and hide your body and name."

Liu Ruoyu lost his mind.

"Nice poem!"

"This kind of poem is unparalleled in the world."

The boy in front of her refreshed her cognition again and again.

It can be called both civil and military.

This poem contains the supreme kendo.

She can understand every word, but the unfathomable central idea after combining them together makes her half-understand.

Someone was crying and muttering to himself.

"I feel the pride, desolation, and chic expressed in the poem."

"Is this the spirit of man?"

"It's so majestic."

Some people suddenly realized after listening.

"Man is one, sword is two, I seem to understand!"

"I used to pay too much attention to the sword in my hand, and became a slave to the sword, ignoring my own spirit."

"I walked into a fork!"

The four sword immortals on the high platform savored carefully.

The four looked at each other.

"What did you realize?"

Ye Tianlan pondered.

"I always feel that what he said is very reasonable, it is the words of heaven."

"But... it feels a little weird."

He thought for a while and continued, "Maybe the words of heaven are too profound, and I need to go back and slowly understand."

He Qingqiu also nodded and said.

"I also have a feeling that I understand, but I don't understand anything."

"Is this the way of heaven? It really makes people elusive."

"Even if you and I are in the realm of the sword fairy, we can't understand a thing or two."

Zhang Hao was speechless.

"The energy contained in these poems is enough for these people to comprehend for a long time."

The harmony between man and nature faded away from the young man.

The sky is already dark, and the starry sky has not yet appeared.

But at this time, a star suddenly appeared in the northwest of the sky.

The dazzling light shone brighter and brighter.

"That star is..."

Haotian Continent, somewhere.

Lin Xiuru Academy.

An old man is sitting in a bamboo grove, holding a book and drinking tea.

Suddenly he raised his head and looked at the star in the northwest sky, which kept twinkling.

"Wenquxing is here!"

"Could it be that there are Zhenzhou poems born!"

The old man excitedly placed the book in his hand on the stone platform.

"Whose academy's great Confucian, who wrote Zhenzhou poems, is really a great talent!"

The Wenqu star in the sky, twinkling and twinkling, is extremely bright.

at the same time.

The statues of the sage Confucius in the major academies in the Haotian Continent are all overflowing with literary spirit, and the divine bells in the courtyards are constantly ringing.

"wrong!"

"This vision is not the birth of Zhenzhou!"

"This is... someone wrote a poem handed down from generation to generation!"

"Who's student has such a great talent!"

The old man almost jumped up in shock.

The excitement was indescribable.

"Confucianism and Taoism are not alone!"

In today's world, immortality dominates.

Confucianism has been suppressed by Taoism since thousands of years ago.

Few people can calm down to learn to read and write articles.

The way of Confucianism has been handed down for nearly a thousand years, not to mention handed down from generation to generation, even Zhenzhou poems have not been able to be written by anyone.

Just today!

Some people silently wrote poems handed down from generation to generation.

He saw a glimmer of light, cutting through the darkness and bringing light to all Confucian students.

The students from the major colleges did not know why, and gathered together one after another.

"what happened?"

"Why does the statue of Sage Kong have such a vision?"

At this time.

The bells of the various gods stopped, and a sound full of majesty and magnetism sounded.

"Three thousand guests are full of flowers and drunk, and one sword is frosty and cold in fourteen states. The drum horns lift the sky and the air is cold, and the wind shakes the sea and mountains in autumn."

This sound resounded through all the colleges.

Every Confucian disciple, no matter where he is, can hear this sound in his ears.

They were shocked.

"It's a poem handed down from generation to generation!"

"Someone has written a poem handed down from generation to generation!"

"who is it?"

"Could it be Lin Shengren?"

"One Sword Frost and Cold Fourteen States! Good poetry! Good poetry!"

The majestic voice did not stop.

A handed down poem has just ended, and the second one will follow.

"Raise your head in the clouds floating in the northwest, relying on the sky for thousands of miles, you must have a long sword. People say that here, you will see each other long at night, and the bullfight is blazing."

The heads of all Confucian students are buzzing.

Another... a poem handed down from generation to generation?
What's going on today!
Thousands of years ago, even Zhenzhou poems did not appear, but today someone has written two poems in succession.

"Who is this?"

"Confucianism is booming!"

"Our generation of scholars will eventually have a bright day."

"Strange, why is there no signature!"

"We should be able to see the signature of the poems handed down from generation to generation!"

"I can't wait to see which two great scholars have such talents!"

When all Confucian students were still silent in the previous two handed down poems.

The third poem came out.

"In drunkenness, light up the lamp to look at the sword, and dream of blowing the corner of the company's camp. Eight hundred miles of subordinates are burned, fifty strings are turned outside the fortress, and soldiers are ordered in autumn."

at this time.

Whether it is praise or lament, there is no voice in the college.

Three consecutive poems handed down from generation to generation made them feel as if they had passed away.

The old man in the bamboo forest was already slumped on the seat, his eyes lost their focus.

"Do not……"

"impossible."

"Am I dreaming?"

"Even in the most glorious time of academic contention, it is impossible for three handed down poems to appear in such a short period of time."

The Wenqu star in the sky is still bright.

The fourth poem comes quietly.

"The silver saddle shines on the white horse, and it rustles like a shooting star. Killing a man in ten steps will never stop him for a thousand miles. When it's done, brush off your clothes and hide your body and name."

Tonight seems destined to belong to Confucianism and Taoism.

The four handed down poems made all Confucian and Taoist students shed tears.

The old man stood up with difficulty, his whole body trembling.

"Confucianism and Taoism are flourishing! Confucianism and Taoism are the most holy!"

"The saint blesses me as a scholar!"

The four handed down poems were born on the same day and at the same time.

This is a miracle, a miracle.

Finally, the holy voice stopped.

The picture of a young figure appeared in front of all the Confucian students.

That young man is unparalleled in appearance.

The young man was in high spirits.