Qiu Shenji responded coldly and twitched the corners of his mouth.

The contempt is palpable.

But the most terrifying thing for the white-faced scribe is that the man in sackcloth blocking the road in front of him, no matter how much he despises or despises him, still clings to his spirit.

Even though the man's muscles are flabby, he looks like a lazy man, but this is the state of a top martial artist before taking action. The kind of muscle that is tight all over the body is actually a third-rate martial artist in the world.

He stood ready and did not give the white-faced scribe any chance.

This is a warrior who leads a large peripheral army to charge into battle and fight to grow up.

The next second, the sighing white-faced scribe's body suddenly glowed with red light, turning into a crimson rainbow and rushing towards the roof of the hall. The bricks on the roof melted, and the gap opened silently. The crimson rainbow seemed to penetrate through the hole in the next second.

Unfortunately, Qiu Shenji blocked the gap in the roof as expected.

The white-faced scholar's energy was tightly locked, and his physique was different. If he dared to get close to a warrior, he would be falling into a trap, like a moth flying into the flame.

But the crimson rainbow transformed by the white-faced scribe remained straight and headed straight towards the mountain.

Like a turbulent river being diverted by a huge boulder, the crimson spiritual energy in the rainbow is consumed rapidly.

Qiu Shenji did not move for the moment, his face was calm, and he was observing the situation in a cave, just like using troops on the battlefield to defend the enemy's surprise troops.

The white-faced scribe began to bleed from his orifices. The next second, the crimson rainbow in the sky suddenly turned back. The white-faced scribe turned his head and threw a volume of Confucian scriptures in his sleeve toward the palace door.

Qiu Shenji, who was originally motionless, suddenly appeared in front of the white-faced scribe.

A big hand clamped the right wrist of the white-faced scribe who was about to throw away the book.

Qiu Shenji broke off a section of his right hand, just like a woman breaking a willow tree during a spring outing by the lake.

And in the hand of this severed limb, there is still a volume of Confucian scriptures tightly clutched.

Qiu Shenji glanced at the reader's Confucian classics.

The white-faced scribe in front of him had big drums of blood gushing out from his mouth and nose, like a water pump pumping out water from a well.

The scribe with the severed hand and the man with the "broken willow" maintained the same posture and stood quietly in front of the main hall.

The white-faced scribe smiled lightly at Qiu Shenji with his face full of bloodstains:

"The Xianbei Yi tribe is just that. They are lackeys of the Wei family and they think they are the king of Mu. They are just a monkey and a crown prince."

As soon as the words came out, fragments fell off the face of the white-faced scribe.

Piece after piece, they fell.

It's like a lifelike terracotta warrior with pieces of paint falling from its face.

The Confucian book reader smiled with a bloody face, and his body began to disintegrate inch by inch.

The crimson spiritual energy in his body became violent, like beams of light, shooting out from the disintegrated gaps one after another.

The unnamed white-faced scribe has more and more crimson light pillars on his body, or he looks like a hedgehog with blood-red thorns.

Qiu Shenji frowned slightly: "Are all scholars so stubborn?"

The next second, the man's shoulders shook slightly, and his muscles and bones crackled, squirming and twisting like an earth dragon turning over.

A fierce and terrifying lilac spiritual energy gradually emitted!

It's like being reborn.

Qiu Shenji's body was suspended in the air in the calm air.

A top-grade Qi practitioner who was terrifying in the world suddenly appeared in front of the hall, unscrupulously exuding his own surging spiritual energy.

A top-grade Qi Practitioner, that is, a fifth-grade Qi Practitioner, or a fourth-grade Qi Practitioner can release spiritual energy.

If Ouyang Rong were here at this moment and saw this scene, he would definitely think of what his junior sister once said casually: a high-grade Qi practitioner can walk with the wind, and does not need to rely on force to breathe like a middle-grade or low-grade Qi practitioner.

I saw that the surging purple energy temporarily suppressed the crimson spiritual energy that was about to burst away.

Qiu Shenji frowned in dissatisfaction and glanced at the white-faced scribe who looked at him with a bloody face and a smile. The latter was already dead, and he died with his eyes closed.

At least he forced out his high-grade purple energy cultivation.

Qiu Shenji snorted coldly, and grabbed forward with his big hand. The "fragments" that the white-faced scribe originally dropped returned to their original places one by one, and the blood returned to the broken meridians in his body drop by drop.

This scene is like going back in time and space, and the white-faced scribe is put back together neatly.

But this is just a rough splicing, not a complete restoration or resurrection of the dead.

Qiu Shenji stretched his fist forward, released his fist into a claw, and suddenly took a shot from the air.

The body of the white-faced scribe was like a broken rag doll, with his head tilted and his arms lowered, slowly rising.

With his other hand, he raised two fingers and pointed directly at the golden Buddha in the center of the hall.

It is said that military qi practitioners, in addition to practicing the most basic martial arts physique, are also divided into four categories based on different qi refining techniques:

Military strategist, weapons expert, military yin and yang expert, military situation expert.

Among them, the Yin and Yang Family of Soldiers, according to ancient books, attack according to the time, and they can pretend to be ghosts and gods to help.

That is to say, one is proficient in the Yin Yang and Five Elements principles similar to those of the Yin Yang family, and at the same time has a thorough understanding of the surrounding battlefields, and takes advantage of the situation to take action according to local conditions.

Amidst the curling green smoke in the hall, the head of the Buddha slowly rose, and its head and body separated.

Qiu Shenji casually threw the dead Confucian book reader and all traces of it into the Buddha.

The suspended Buddha head gradually fell down, and the head and body healed.

Completely sealed.

After doing this, Qiu Shenji didn't leave, but turned around and rushed towards the futon where the white-faced scribe had been sitting before.

I saw a jade pendant lying still.

But he still came one step late. The aura of the white-faced scribe had just closed and disappeared, and the jade pendant suddenly shot towards the palace door at an extremely fast speed.

Qiu Shenji chased after him, first dodging to the gate of the palace, and then to the sky above the square outside the palace... His natal jade pendant shot into the sky, Qiu Shenji dodged and followed him all the way.

Thousands of feet high in the sky, a jade pendant is about to penetrate the rich aroma of incense in Donglin Temple and explode in the air to send a message.

But a big hand suddenly stretched out and grabbed the jade pendant. It was Qiu Shenji who suddenly appeared.

The jade pendant had been blown to pieces, but hundreds of fragments and a certain spiritual energy in them were trapped between a palm.

When Qiu Shenji saw this, his expression seemed to be relieved.

A gentleman has no reason, and the jade never leaves his body. Every Confucian qi practitioner wears a jade ring of his or her own destiny. After the host dies, the jade pendant explodes and reports to the Confucian sect's ancestor hall.

He looked around and nodded slightly.

I am quite satisfied with the rich scent of incense that can block the contact with the outside world.

Bing Yin Yang's family just borrowed it to move their energy.

I saw the man in linen clothes suspended in the air, using a special breathing method, taking a long breath, arms folded, and the surging purple energy wrapped around his body gradually restrained until it disappeared.

In a few moments, thousands of feet high in the sky, the figure disappeared, leaving only the sound of the wind.

Hall of Copying Sutras.

At a certain moment, an old monk rested his pen and looked to the left, seeing that a certain futon was empty.

The white-faced scribe who was copying books together disappeared.

The old monk, who was quite deaf, shook his head and muttered something, then raised his face and looked at the golden Buddha.

The Buddha has kind eyebrows and kind eyes.

The old monk continued to copy scriptures.

…

Bamboo forest, cottage.

Liu Zian and Boss Li stared wide-eyed.

When Qiu Shenji returned, he held a cracked jade pendant in his left hand and a bloody broken palm in his right hand. The broken palm was also holding on to a volume of Confucian scriptures.

The man walked to the window and put the sword case on his back again.

Wei Shaoxuan took the Confucian classics, threw away his severed hand, took out several manuscripts sandwiched between pages, glanced down at them, and shook his head:

"It should be the secret sentry protecting Li Xian's family. They were attracted by the signs of our sudden arrival and came here to eavesdrop...

"And it seems that we haven't heard anything. The Liberationists haven't discovered the big thing we are going to do yet, haha."

Liu Zian's face seemed to be relieved, and he glanced at the man in sackcloth who was carrying the box again.

Wei Shaoxuan suddenly put down the Confucian classics and turned around:

"Master Liu, when will the sword be released?"

Liu Zian's face suddenly became serious:

"The old gentleman said it's the fifteenth of this month!"
Chapter completed!