Every assassination of Xianjun fails [Transmigration Book]

Li Qinghong stood in front of Shang Lang's bed for a while, and finally stretched out his hand and put it on his wrist.

His own fingers were cold, but Shang Lang's body temperature was actually colder than his, but his pulse was surging and rapid.

With trembling hands, Li Qinghong untied the bandage on his chest.

The chest was exposed, and under the thin chest muscles, beside the heart, there was a bright red palm print.

Fortunately, it was not completely aimed at the heart, otherwise the gods would be hard to save.

Thinking about it, Shang Yuan wouldn't immediately kill his blood relatives just because his grandson questioned him.

Li Qinghong stretched out his hand to press his chest, Shang Lang who was in a coma immediately frowned, as if he was in severe pain.

Looking at Shang Lang's haggard face, he was stunned for a while, and then murmured: "You promised me. No matter what kind of illness is serious or minor, even if you are seriously injured and dying, I can only treat you for you."

There is a tray beside the bed, on which are several kinds of wound medicine and panacea.

Li Qinghong stretched out his hand to open it, inspected it in turn, frowned, poured out one of the bottles, took out another bottle of medicine from the storage bag, and put it in.

Raising his palm, he stuck it to the bright red palm print on Shang Lang's chest, the surrounding area was icy cold, but this tentacle was hot, and a spiritual force raged underneath.

There are already traces of needle sticks around the palm prints, and there should be medical practitioners who applied the needles, but almost all the visiting medical cultivators here followed Yuan Qinghang and the others and fled. Acupuncture is not quite right.

Too gentle, dare not hit hard.

Li Qinghong gritted his teeth, a thick silver needle emerged from his fingertips, aimed at the key acupoint in his heart, and stabbed it hard.

Shang Lang, who was in a coma, let out a painful moan from his throat.

Li Qinghong didn't hold back, and after a few more injections, a row of blood holes had already appeared in Shang Lang's heart, and a little bit of green medicine on the tip of the needle quickly melted away, seeping into the flesh and blood.

The liquid medicine was extremely overbearing, and Shang Lang suddenly convulsed in a coma, and cold sweat began to drip from his forehead.

Li Qinghong's hands trembled slightly, and he said in a low voice: "No matter how painful it is, you can bear it, I don't have time to treat you carefully."

A moment later, several lines of light blue blood scattered from Shang Lang's heart to his limbs, rushing rapidly.

Li Qinghong's fingers were like the wind, patting all the joints one by one, helping the medicinal liquid to spread quickly into his limbs. After waiting for a while, seeing that the strange medicinal liquid had flowed all over the extremities of his limbs, he quickly shot, Shang Lang stuck his fingertips together again.

A stream of blood arrows spurted out quickly and sprinkled on the ground in front of the bed, carrying a faint fishy smell.

After a while, Shang Lang's golden paper-like complexion finally turned a little bloody.

Li Qinghong also had a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, stopped his hands, pried open his mouth again, and fed a pill into it.

The room was quiet, half a furnace of requiem incense was quietly burning, and the smell of medicine and blood mixed in the air.

Outside, the formerly bustling Cangqiong Sect also fell silent. I don't know if those Jianzong disciples are panicking now, or are they being forced to patrol the front of the formation.

The cold moonlight lingered by the window, and the crabapple tree in the small courtyard made rustling sounds. Li Qinghong sat on the bedside, stared at Shang Lang's face in a daze, and stretched out his hand hesitantly, between his frowning brows. Caressed.

"This time as a guest of the Cangqiong faction, it seems that I seldom see you smiling." He murmured, "Although you smile silly, it's better to smile."

Shang Lang still fell asleep motionless, his heavy breathing gradually calming down.

"After two hours, if I don't have a fever, I will leave." Li Qinghong said to himself.

"After you recover, just like your junior brother, hurry up and leave too. Look at that man, he is full of benevolence and righteousness, and when things come to an end, doesn't he just hide away?"

The tall boy on the bed fell asleep, his breathing gradually steady.

Li Qinghong was stunned for a while, then murmured: "Obviously a hypocrite, but the young master's brother just likes him...Obviously I have been with him since we were young, but why did he only come for a few days? God, the young master's brother will never forget him?"

"Since he can defeat me, then I must be able to defeat Mu Jiarong and snatch you here, right?" His fingers gently stroked Shang Lang's face, yearning for the scorching temperature, "Sir Brother Master doesn't want me anymore, he doesn't like me killing people, even if it's for him, he's not happy. Don't be like him, suddenly treat me well, and suddenly leave me alone."

In the small courtyard outside, suddenly a bird fluttered from the crabapple tree, but the sound of insects seemed to stop...

Li Qinghong didn't realize it, but suddenly thought of something, and said: "By the way, why don't you come to our Shennong Valley? Sooner or later, I will secretly kill my brother and his mother, so that Shennong Valley belongs to me alone. From now on, you Where I played with him when I was a child, I want you to play with me again."

For some reason, Shang Lang, who was in a coma, groaned softly at this moment.

Li Qinghong suddenly got a little angry, and pulled out the Ling Tuling dagger in his hand: "Why do you react when you mention him? He stole the seat of my eldest son in Shennonggu for so many years, occupied my father, and now he is back, and there is another What's wrong?"

Probably because Tu Ling's evil spirit was too strong, the "Zhiyang" sword placed next to Shang Lang's pillow suddenly trembled slightly and let out a soft cry.

Li Qinghong became even more angry, and said viciously: "If I hadn't been taken away, I would have grown up in Shennong Valley and known you since childhood, it would have been me!"

He stood up suddenly, grabbed Turing's dagger and walked around the room anxiously a few times, then sat down by the bed again, thinking gloomyly.

After a while, he finally said sadly: "The young master brother said that if he lied to others all his life, he would be exposed eventually. If I really killed Mu Jiarong, you will never forgive me again if you know it. wrong?"

The Turing dagger in his hand turned back and forth, overflowing with evil spirits for a while, and then subsided for a while, constantly changing with the owner's mood.

Finally, he sighed lowly, lay down on the side of the bed, leaned his cheek against Shang Lang's hand, and rubbed his cheek carefully: "Forget it, as long as you promise to go with me, we can go anywhere. Leave Shennonggu to Mu Jiarong is fine, I don't care too much, and it will save my father from embarrassing him all day long."

The white candle beside the bed flickered slightly, and at the half-covered doorway, there was a vague gray shadow hidden in the shadow of the tree, motionless.

Li Qinghong lay quietly beside the bed for a while, and finally stretched out his hand to try on Shang Lang's forehead.

As the temperature dropped, the young man's brows relaxed a little.

Li Qinghong reluctantly stood up, turned around and walked towards the door.

There is a small gap in the doorway, and the moonlight spills in through the gap, leaving a light silver streak in the doorway.

Li Qinghong walked slowly to the door, but his eyes suddenly narrowed.

The moment he pushed the door open, he pulled up "Tu Ling" suddenly, and stabbed towards the door like lightning!

A ray of sword light suddenly shot up in the air, with a cold killing intent, it blocked the cold light of his dagger.

The next moment, that sword light was even more magnificent like a rainbow, aggressive with determination, stabbing out several moves one after another, forcing Li Qinghong to retreat into the room step by step in a panic.

Ning Cheng's calm face faced the moonlight and blocked the door.

He looked at Li Qinghong coldly: "What are you doing here?"

Li Qinghong's forehead was sweating, he stared at him: "...Anyway, it's not here to harm anyone."

Ning Cheng lightly tapped the tip of his sword, forcing it to his throat: "You have appeared beside him, and you are already harming him."

His expression was full of disgust: "You are like that Yuan Qinghang, you think you are good to people, but in fact you can only bring bad luck to people."

Li Qinghong's eyes flickered, he glanced at the window quietly, and stepped back slightly: "Really? But Shang Lang seems to be beaten to death by his grandfather himself."

Ning Cheng looked at him coldly, put away his sword for a while, and walked to the bed.

His eyes fell on Shang Lang's re-bandaged chest, and then on his bloody face.

While he was looking down at Shang Lang, Li Qinghong suddenly moved his wrist, and a cloud of black smoke flew straight towards Ning Cheng's face.

At the same time, he swung his dagger, opened the window, and rushed out.

But Ning Cheng seemed to have been prepared, and immediately held his breath, but his sword was even faster.

The room was full of sword lights, and Ning Cheng's sword let out a sharp howl, and hurriedly chased after Li Qinghong's back.

Li Qinghong has only just advanced to the middle stage of the Golden Core, and compared to Ning Cheng, who has already completed the Golden Core, he is not at the same level at all.

Ning Cheng's sword cut a bloody streak across his back in an instant.

Li Qinghong staggered and fell down immediately.But he didn't seem to feel the pain, so he approached Ning Cheng, raised his dagger and stabbed hard at his ribs.

Ning Cheng's face darkened, his figure flickered, and he dodged the blow, but Tu Ling's dagger seemed to have its own spirituality, turned again in the air, and slashed against his wrist.

With a sound of "Zi La", the sleeve of Ning Cheng's wrist was torn apart, a large piece of cloth floated down, and blood spattered.

Li Qinghong glanced at Ning Cheng's injury in a hurry.

All of a sudden, his body froze.

As if seeing something strange, his eyes were confused for a moment, and after a while, they quickly turned to panic.

Ning Cheng also seemed to sense his strangeness, and looked down at his wound.

The wrist tightly wrapped by the long sleeve was exposed.

A series of hideous old wounds are densely covered on the skin, criss-crossing, like rice paddies.

Li Qinghong's body froze on the spot as if he could not move at all.

Ning Cheng looked up at him, and said lightly, "What's wrong?"

Li Qinghong suddenly shivered slightly, he slowly raised his head and looked at Ning Cheng.

"I'm here to see Shang Lang. He's seriously injured. I just want to help him heal. You've seen it too."

He hurriedly said, with a strange tone, no longer as sharp and mean as usual, and rarely willing to explain, as if he felt a huge crisis: "Ning Xianchang... I really have no bad intentions. If you kill me, Ning Duo Both Shang Lang and Shang Lang will hate you."

Ning Cheng looked at him quietly for a long while, and finally nodded: "That's right, you are not guilty of death."

He pointed at the door with the tip of his sword: "Go away, don't let me see you again."

Li Qinghong was relieved, only felt that his whole body was drenched in cold sweat, he turned around abruptly, and rushed to the back of the door.

As soon as he ran to the door, an invisible sword intent followed him like a shadow, suddenly surged, and pierced straight into his back.

Li Qinghong staggered and fell forward.

He half-knelt on the ground, looked at the half point of the sword protruding from his heart, panted heavily, and the blood foam overflowed from his lips.

With a twitch of Ning Cheng's hand, the cold long sword was drawn from his chest, and a bloody arrow spurted out.

Li Qinghong turned around with difficulty and looked at Ning Cheng.

Ning Cheng stretched out his foot and kicked him to the ground, his eyes were indifferent: "Why are you so surprised to see my hand?"

Li Qinghong firmly grasped the Tu Lingdagger, and after a long while, he said in a low voice: "So it was you."

Ning Cheng Junxiu's face was innocent: "What?"

Li Qinghong panted, looking at the surging blood in his chest: "...In the mist formation, you are like this in front of my eyes, stabbing Mu Jiarong with a sword."

Ning Cheng was silent for a moment, then raised his eyebrows: "Oh, you were there? Why didn't I know?"

Li Qinghong closed his eyes.

Taking a quick glance at that time, he only saw some strange patterns on the murderer's wrist. It turned out that it wasn't a wristband or a tattoo.

It was such an old scar.

... His body was getting colder and colder. In his blurred vision, he struggled to crawl forward.

The boy on the bed was still unconscious, unaware that someone was approaching him a little bit in the room.

Li Qinghong finally climbed to the side of the bed with great difficulty, but his back hurt and he was kicked to the ground again.

He groaned and curled up in pain: "So... Shang Lang and the others were seriously injured... and it was you..."

Ning Cheng approached slowly and stood in front of him.

"It doesn't matter, sooner or later it will be clear." He said coldly, "Everything will happen."