Immortals come on the moon

Since the man is unwilling to tell him, then he will not expose the other party.

Song Minhuan agreed to make wine for Gongzi Lan, there are many plums planted on the mountain, he picked green plums on the mountain, and the bamboo basket was already half full.The man was picking up what fell from the ground. His leg was broken, and it was not as convenient as before after it was repaired. It was not easy to climb the tree.

He also found that the puppet man often disappeared after moving, and he didn't know where he went. Once he disappeared, it could be as short as a few days, and as long as ten days and a half months.He didn't ask Young Master Lan, but asked Feng Yuan, Feng Yuan didn't know, asked Mu Yin, Mu Yin only said that he had something to deal with.

Mu Yin has always listened to Young Master Lan the most, seeing that he didn't ask Young Master Lan, he saw some tricks, so he didn't tell him.

He didn't ask any more questions, and repeated his previous life every day, practicing swords and soaking in cold springs. Occasionally, when he was free, he would draw a picture by the window. Before he knew it, a thin stack of paintings had been accumulated by the window.

Putting Qingmei into the basket, his cultivation was still stagnant, his sword practice became more and more proficient, but he couldn't cut off the sycamore branches easily, nor could he smash the boulders on the stone platform.

At first, he thought that he could cut the boulder in half with all his strength, but later he found out that he was overthinking. Gong Zilan could cut the boulder in half lightly, but he only made a small cut with all his strength.

Gong Zilan told him that when he can easily cut the boulder in half, it means that his cultivation has reached the seventh level and above.

He picked two greengages from the tree, turned his head and took a look, and found that the man had gone to wash the greengages by the pond.

Bamboo baskets are dripping water, and koi are looming in the pond.

Song Minhuan also jumped down. He picked a basket and put the green plums in the pond to wash. He picked off the leaves with his hands.

He noticed that the man next to him put the whole bamboo basket into the pool, half of the water soaked into the bamboo basket, and the other part of the bamboo basket floated in mid-air, but no green plums floated out of it.

He also learned to wash like this, but there were always green plums floating out. He squeezed the remaining green plums back into the basket, and asked, "Why do my plums always run out?"

"Your plum seems to be more obedient."

The man removed the green plum leaves, put the bamboo basket aside, and held the edge of his bamboo basket, "This way... go down a little, and keep the water level a little above the plums. If there is too much, it will overflow, and if it is too little, it will not be cleaned."

This is a very subtle control, and Song Minhuan followed suit. He learned it after doing it once, and he needed to keep on the same water level all the time.

He washed the greengages for a while, looked at the greengages he had washed out, and put the cleaned plums into another bamboo basket. He asked, "Why do you want to wash like this? It seems more troublesome to wash like this."

"No trouble," the man said, "this way the plums can be washed clean with the least amount of water."

Indeed, Song Minhuan stared at Qingmei in his palm for a while, and something flashed through his mind, but he couldn't catch it.

The man went to the courtyard with the bamboo basket, and he followed behind. There were many empty wine jars on the coffee table, and beside them were the fermented rice that Gongzi Lan had prepared for them in advance.

"I like to drink sour," the three-eyed female ghost said to the two of them, "Plum wine should not be so sweet."

"Sweeter tastes better," Song Minhuan said, but he still put a lot of green plums in the wine jar, so the wine would be much sour.

He brewed some according to the tastes of several people. The branches and leaves of greengage were removed, the core of the fruit inside was picked out with a bamboo stick, and the remaining pulp was put into the bottom of the jar.

"Boy, how is your cultivation going?"

Gong Zilan came over and took a few green plums from the table, tasted one, his sour face twisted for a moment, "Why so sour."

"Fair." Song Minhuan replied.

"I received the news today," Young Master Lan said, "Your servant and the others are also planning to use Yingzhou holy water. Congratulations in advance, you have an extra formidable enemy."

Song Minhuan was stunned for a while, and put down the bamboo stick in his hand, "What do they want holy water for?"

"I don't know the details," Young Master Lan said, "According to his nature, even if it is destroyed, Shen Yingxue won't let him get it. What's more, Xianmen uses this holy water as a reward for the No. 1 sword competition. If he can snatch the holy water ..."

Needless to say, the rest can put pressure on Xianmen and create chaos, like what the Gate of Twelve Nights will do.

This young master Lan had said it before, and now that he really heard it, he felt like a heavy rock was weighing on his heart, and then he heard young master Lan's seemingly unintentional opening.

"With your master's body, it really can't last too long. With the holy water, he can restore part of his cultivation, and maybe he can live for a few more years."

Gong Zilan: "You don't have to worry too much, Changle's spirit will not disperse, even if he dies, Changle's spirit will be reincarnated in the future, you wait for a few hundred years, and there will be a new Shen Yingxue."

"That's Chang Le's reincarnation, not Shen Yingxue."

As Song Minhuan spoke softly, he subconsciously stroked the sword in his hand. The sword patterns on it had been smoothed out during day and night sword practice, and his fingertips also had some thin calluses.

He didn't want Shen Yingxue to die.

He didn't hear what Gong Zilan said next, maybe he was comforting him, the puppet man next to him threw two green plums into his basket.

What did Gong Zilan want to say, the puppet man turned his head and glanced at him, there was no emotion in those deep eyes, so Gong Zilan shut up and went to tease the three-eyed female ghost.

After burying the wine under the sycamore tree, Song Minhuan returned to his yard. He took the shark silk and went out to practice his sword. There were a total of [-] steps along the way. He stumbled at first, but now he is gradually proficient.

The tree shadows swayed, the wind piercing through the forest was coming, and the white silk was blown behind him. He reached the stone platform and put the scabbard aside.He practiced a set of sword skills on the spot. The sword light chopped off the leaves of the sycamore tree, and several sword qi cut off the branches of the sycamore tree.

Song Minhuan was holding a long sword, the light of the sword was awe-inspiring, he had already memorized this set of sword skills by heart.His sword energy gathered together, and when he released the coercion, it seemed to be no different from the usual sword energy.

Inexplicably, he remembered the puppet man's words in his mind, the subtle control of spiritual power, and when he was practicing sword... he caught that flash of white light in his mind.

How to exert the greatest power with the least amount of spiritual power?The previous few times he was able to cut off the sycamore branches, was it because he achieved such a subtle control unintentionally.

So if it can be done... only keep trying.

But he has tried many times, but he is rarely able to do it. The only time he did it was when it rained heavily, and he gave his spiritual power to the sword to control, but Gongzi Lan said that he needs to control the sword, not let the sword take the lead.

What if he controls the spiritual power and leads the sword to dominate?

Such a statement is not correct, because to a certain extent, he controls the spiritual power together with the sword, he is responsible for guiding, and the sword is responsible for exerting the spiritual power to the maximum.

I don't know if this way of thinking is right, Song Minhuan thought so, he tried to feel the sword, as if he could feel the heavy spiritual power emanating from the sword, he poured the spiritual power into the sword.

The monk's sword is their most loyal believer. I don't know who said this. Song Minhuan thought of it now. He let some of his spiritual power be given to the sword, and he controlled the sword with difficulty, just like practicing Feixue swordsmanship on weekdays.

It is necessary to grasp the spiritual power to a certain extent and carry out subtle control. He remembered that when the man washed the greengage in the pond, he ensured that the water would not overflow, and he could let the water cover all the greengage.

He must ensure that the sword does not dominate him, and uses the least amount of spiritual power to allow the sword to display the strongest sword energy.

Can these three things be done at the same time?

Song Minhuan's eyes were covered, so he couldn't see the surrounding environment. He heard the movement of the parasol forest in his ears. He held the sword and didn't notice that the surroundings quietly changed.

Following his swordsmanship, the spiritual power gradually gathered in mid-air into coercion, and the vegetation on the side gradually became still, and the blade turned silvery white like frost and snow.The sword pattern on the top becomes a masked attendant, who holds a sword and shield in his hand, symbolizing the meaning of protection.

The air became cold, silver-white frost spread from the ground, and the sword energy of the long sword condensed together. At the moment when the young man swung the sword, there was a "bang", endless coercion erupted, and a row of sycamore trees burst out. Slowly fell down.

A white light spread out from the sky, the coercion blocked the blue and white sunlight, and it took a while to dissipate.

Song Minhuan didn't know what happened, he took off the silk in front of him, looked at the sycamore tree in front of him that had been cut down in the middle, and looked at the sword in his hand, the sword pattern on it hadn't dissipated yet.

He stood there for a while, this is... the sword pattern was created by himself?His spiritual power is enough to produce sword patterns?

Throughout the ages, there are very few people who can produce sword patterns, at least he knows of few, except for Changle son Lan and others, there seem to be very few records in later generations.

Not sure if it was the sword pattern born by himself, he was a little excited, his fingertips holding the sword were a little unsteady, and he was anxious to go over and ask Young Master Lan.

He stood there, staring at the sword in his hand for a while, then looked up at the puppet man not far away. The man was still holding a sycamore branch in his hand. For some reason, he seemed to see a gentle smile in the man's eyes .

The emotion flashed so fast that he thought it was an illusion, and when he looked again, it was gone.The man's eyes returned to his usual silence and introversion.

"Changle, do you want to go there with me?"

Song Minhuan was in a good mood, he thumped and ran to the puppet man, with a smile on his face, the depression during the day was swept away, and now he was full of anticipation and enthusiasm.

"You said that I will fight with the stone in a while, can I win?"

Shi Shi was talking about Gongzi Lan, he often called it that way on weekdays, and men knew it too.

The puppet man let out a "hmm" and followed him, "Maybe it is possible."

"Then do you think it is possible for me to defeat the Gate of Twelve Nights?"

"You can," the puppet man asked him again, "do you have to defeat them?"

"Of course, I don't live with them," Song Min laughed, not only because of the evil curse, but also because the other party wanted to grab the holy water from him, which was the only hope to save Shen Yingxue, and he definitely wouldn't let it go.

"In this world, besides hatred, there are many other things," the puppet man said, thinking of something, his eyes were calm and gentle.

"You're right, I used to teach my junior brother like this before," Song Minhuan recalled, feeling that those days seemed to have been a long time ago, his voice was slightly lowered, with resolute determination, and his voice became a little difficult.

"The Gate of Twelve Nights has always been a hidden danger for Xianmen. Xianjun protects the common people in the world, and I want to protect him...I want to do my part and do more for him."