Quick Transmission: Host, don’t touch the boss, he’s going to kiss you

The woman knelt down and sat on the ground holding Yue Ming, sobbing softly, her tears rolling down unbridled like scattered jade beads.

Ning Zhiyan sighed softly. He grew up in Yunjiu Mountain, and there was no female family member on the mountain. Now he didn't know how to speak.

Did he ask too many questions?

Listening to the woman's mute sobs, Ning Zhiyan felt overwhelmed and upset for no reason for the first time.

After a long moment of silence, he awkwardly raised his hand to wipe away the tears on her face, and comforted her in a low voice: "Don't cry, can you tell me what happened?"

Aning's thin shoulders trembled, looking particularly pitiful.

She now hated the original owner's incontinence of tears and cried at every turn. She obviously didn't want to cry, but she really couldn't control the original owner's emotions and could only let the tears flow out.

"I forgot." Aning's eyes were red and she raised her head to look at him.

"..."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ning Zhiyan felt a strong beat somewhere in his chest.

In order to prevent her from crying anymore, Ning Zhiyan started talking to her to try to divert her attention. They talked for a long time, until the sky began to turn white, and her mood improved a little.

At least I didn’t shed any more tears.

He had not slept all night, his face looked tired, his black hair was tied back casually, his temperament was gentle and quiet, and his voice was elegant. He asked: "So why did you show up in my house."

Aning didn't answer. He lowered his head and dug into the scabbard of the Yue Ming Sword with his fingertips. He was silent for a long time before he softly replied, "It was Yue Ming who brought me here."

Weird.

The man frowned slightly. Through his understanding of Yue Ming in the past few months, he knew that this sword had its own ideas.

No one can get close to it except him, so how could it be used by a strange woman?

Unless it was true, or she was lying, otherwise he really had no reasonable explanation. Of course, he preferred the latter. After all, this girl made up stories from seven hundred years ago, and what she told was quite true.

But Yueming didn't reject it in her hands. What's the explanation?

Judging from the material of this woman's clothing and conversation, she is obviously not like ordinary people, and the story she compiled is very orderly. The capital of Shu a hundred years ago even recorded very little in the book, but she knew everything about that time. As if she had lived somewhere.

Unless, unless, Ning Zhiyan suddenly thought of something.

"Girl, can you show me your wrist?"

Aning nodded and stretched out her slender white wrist in front of him. The man quickly caught her pulse, the cold touch of his fingertips, and a crack appeared on his calm face.

The woman in front of her had no pulse or even temperature.

This just confirmed the fact that he didn't want to admit.

She is really not a human being.

If most people encountered this kind of situation, their first reaction would be fear or surprise, but Ning Zhiyan got rid of the initial shock and then became indifferent. He seemed to be unfazed and calm without any fluctuations.

"What's wrong?" Aning nervously clutched his blue shirt, looking at his emotionless face, his tone was uneasy.

Ning Zhiyan raised his thin eyelids, and his long and sparse eyelashes flashed in his clear eyes. He stared at Yue Ming in her hand, understanding in his heart.

No wonder she said she was trapped in the sword.

It's Sword Spirit...

He once heard his master say that every sword will produce its own sword spirit. Generally speaking, the sword spirit is slowly cultivated by absorbing the essence of the sun and the moon and opening up the wisdom, but it takes a long time. Another kind is to use living This method of sacrificing people is extremely cruel. Unless it is voluntary, no one may be able to control the sword spirit that is cultivated.

Apart from Master Chen Fei, Yue Ming was the second sword with a sword spirit that he had ever seen. This girl was no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, as young as a flower, and based on what he had learned about her overnight.

Ning Zhiyan thinks it should be the former.

"No problem."

Ning Zhiyan reached out and took out Yue Ming from her hand. The sword was light and light, and the originally dull surface was covered with light and shadow, and the simple lines on the sword became clearer and clearer.

Closing the sword, he smiled peacefully, with a clear and unique look at the end of his eyes, and said to her in a gentle and friendly voice: "What's your name?"