The sunset is the sea of ​​clouds, approaching dusk.

The sun dyed the remaining clouds at the end of the West golden and dazzling.

In the Exiled Immortal City, Kunlun Wanren, and in the attic many people are curious about the origin of Jian Wuji.

Jian Wuji walked step by step. The legendary Kunlun pressure with a force of ten thousand pounds made him feel a little uncomfortable, but it was just discomfort.

Jian Wuji's footsteps suddenly stopped climbing. He turned his head to look west and looked at Yuyang at dusk. He remembered the evening eight years ago. It was also an evening. He was only about ten years old that year.

This is the fourth year after the village was slaughtered by the barbarians.

In the past four years, he is just a child. He only dares to sleep on trees when sleeping, and never dares to sleep to death, for fear that once he sleeps to death, he will really not be able to open his eyes.

It was like today's dusk. Jian Wuji, who had grown into a teenager, was very happy because he had been hungry for three days, and he caught a snake, but it was a poisonous snake. But the boy didn't know that the snake was poisonous, and the hungry boy couldn't care about so much. He peeled it and ate the poisonous snake raw without saying a word.

Then not long after, he felt dizzy, his lips were purple, his head felt dizzy and his internal organs were particularly nauseous. It was a feeling that he would die at any time. Only then did the child realize that he had eaten the wrong thing.

He suddenly missed the dark-skinned father. He felt lonely. He didn't want to live alone in the jungle of southern Xinjiang, but...

He wants to take revenge and live.

He didn't know what herbs could detoxify, and the only way he knew was to cure the disease was to bleed.

The southern Xinjiang has poor materials and scarce herbs, so whether it is wind and cold, headache, body heat, or poisoning, the only way to cure the disease is bloodletting therapy.

He vaguely remembered that an old man in the village had a serious illness. Logically speaking, the old man's body should not be able to resist it, but the bloodletting therapy that everyone in southern Xinjiang knew saved the old man's life.

The child climbed to the stream in the jungle, took out the rusty iron sword that had been polished countless times, and cut a hole on his wrist. Looking at the blood flowing out, he put his hand into the stream.

The reason why I put my hands in the stream is not because he loves to cleanse, but in this jungle, some wild beasts are very sensitive to the smell of blood. If the smell is not eliminated, the bloody smell will attract the wild beasts. According to the current physical condition of the child, there will be only a dead end.

I don’t know if it’s the toxicity or the loss of too much blood. Although the child tried hard to keep his eyes open and prevented himself from falling asleep, the child still closed his eyes before he knew it.

Or, it is because life should not be lost; or maybe it is because of the child's life that God is so mean that even God is unwilling to accept it.

I don’t know how long it took, but the child suddenly woke up. His purple lips turned white, his head was still dizzy and his limbs were weak.

He opened his blurry eyes, looked at the setting sun as blood, and missed homesick again.

He crawled forward two steps, soaked most of his body into the stream, forcibly letting the cold stream wet his body to keep awake.

Finally, the damn drowsiness finally eased a little. The child stood up with difficulty and pinned the rusty iron sword that looked like a treasure on his back. He felt that with his current physical strength, it would be difficult to sleep on the tree tonight; so he dragged his tired body and walked towards the simple hole he had dug away from the rain.

The small hole is not very far from here. According to his previous foot strength, it only took a cup of tea, but now the boy with weak limbs walked half an hour before approaching the hole he dug.

It was a bleak evening in late autumn. The wet clothes on the boy were still the ones from four years ago. But now he is ten years old, and his limbs have grown a lot longer than when he was six years old, so his clothes do not cover his body and his limbs look very funny.

Although his clothes were not warm and it was already late in autumn, the child was already sweating all over after the half hour. He forced his body to fall down at any time and slowly approached the hole he dug.

As soon as he walked to the small hole, he saw an old man sitting cross-legged beside the entrance of the hole. The old man was wearing a long shirt and blouse, and was extremely burly. Although the old man was just sitting cross-legged, he was one head taller than the child. The old man had white hair, long hair on the ground, and his snow-white eyebrows were slightly floating by the breeze.

The boy stopped vigilantly and looked at the long shirt worn by the old man. The boy looked envious in his eyes because he felt that the clothes must be very warm.

Looking at the old man sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, the young man took out the embroidered sword that had been polished countless times from behind and slowly approached the old man. His steps were very light and did not make a sound. This was a skill he learned when hunting. He quietly approached the prey and then hit him with one blow.

Invasion is like fire, and remains as motionless as a mountain.

He was about a dozen steps away from the old man.

He did not consider the consequences of the sneak attack on the old man, because he knew that the worst result would be death, but if it succeeded, then he would be warmer in the coming winter.

Survival of the fittest, survival of the fittest, and the survival of the jungle are the only reasons why this jungle meets him.

Ten steps.

The distance is getting closer.

Five steps.

A line of separation.

Two steps.

The young man suddenly exerted force, and his already exhausted body burst out with an inexplicable potential. The embroidered sword stabbed the old man's neck with one go, like a tiger attacking, revealing his sharpness.

The young man didn't see the old man's movements, so he embroidered the sword and pinched the old man's fingers tightly. The old man still closed his eyes and remained silent.

The boy gritted his teeth and pulled it hard. The old man's fingers were as stable as a rock, and the embroidered sword that was pinched was still motionless.

Because he got close to the old man, the young man saw the old man's appearance clearly. He had an ordinary face, which looked not outstanding, and was inconspicuous in the crowd. In addition to the red diamond mark on the middle of his eyebrows, he could even be said to be ordinary.

The old man opened his eyes and looked at the boy with a slight squint. A faint golden light was inadvertently revealed as his eyes opened and closed.

That was a pair of extremely cold eyes.

The boy's back felt a chill and he felt a murderous aura.

He knew he was going to die, but he still didn't want to let go of the hilt of the sword and chose to escape.

After passing the sword with one rush, the exhausted boy shook his body and fainted completely.

But……

But the boy still held the hilt of the sword in his hand.

The sword body was pinned by the old man's fingers, and the young man fainted and collapsed on the ground, but his left hand was still holding the hilt tightly, and his left body was half suspended in the air, and the picture seemed extremely strange.

The old man was a little surprised.

He practiced swords for many years, and it was so long that the old man himself couldn't remember it. However, this was the first time he met such a determined person. If he put this will on a sword cultivator, he could be evaluated as "Sword Heart is Strong and Decisive".

Thinking of the four words "Sword Heart" and the old man remembered a poem - "A hero is determined to be strong, and the stone is cracked in the fire. If he kills someone and doesn't look back, he will commit suicide as if he is a temporary separation."

The old man whispered softly: "If you don't look back when you kill someone, committing suicide is like leaving for a while."

At this moment, this scene, this poem and this person are in line with this meaning.

However, what shocked the old man was not the young man's firm temperament, but the cold murderous intent that made the old man feel at the moment when the young man set out his sword.

As the only remaining Great Sword Sect in the Han Dynasty, the old man knew what that coldness was.

Sword Intention!

This young man must have not practiced the sword technique yet, and he can possess the sword intent at less than ten years old. How terrifying is this.

A young man under ten years old has the sword intent. The old man doesn't believe it or not, and it is not impossible to accept it. But what really makes the old man unbelievable is another thing. With the cultivation level of the old man who can be called "Tongtian", a young man actually touched two steps behind him without a trace of notice. If it weren't for the murderous intent that broke out when the young man set out his sword, the old man might not be able to react.

"Freak."

The old man accepted three disciples in his life. The eldest disciple died of a misfortune after practicing Taoism for a few years. The second disciple was gifted and thought he could inherit his mantle, but he did not expect to die in the heavenly tribulation. The third one was a closed disciple who the old man regarded as his own, but in the end he died in the battle of the northern border outside the Great Wall ten years ago.

After the third disciple who had devoted all his efforts to death, the old man was disheartened, so he left the sect and traveled around, thinking that he would have been in a daze.

God pays off for those who are determined! He actually met this young man who was "sword heart-striking" like a "freak". The old man's thoughts that had been silent for ten years became active again.

So, the autumn rain continued overnight; the burly and ordinary-looking old man flew a trace of spiritual power into the child's body to help the boy remove residual toxins.

The boy's consciousness slowly woke up. He opened his tired eyes, then sat cross-legged on the ground tiredly, looked up at the old man with a calm look.

The old man's voice was changing and he asked, "What's your name?"

The boy shook his head and replied, "Forgot."

"Where are your parents?"

The boy spoke in a dull voice: "Everything is dead."

"I saved you. According to the saying that you, the people of southern Xinjiang, "bring grass and holding rings, I have to be kind to you."

Each method and one technique are used to make business, and the sword is full of the sky.

"My name is Kunjun, and I am the lord of the Lingkong Pavilion of the Nine Heavens Sword Sect. From today on, you will be called "Sword Wuji". Eight years later, there will be a trial called "Kunlun Wanren" in the Exiled Immortal City. If you can live until the next time you meet, I will accept you as your disciple."

"Eight years later, I hope to see you in the Lingkong Pavilion of the Nine Heavens Sword Sect."

The boy nodded.

From this day on, the young man had a new name called "Jian Wuji". It was also from this day on that day that the young man had a new goal to repay the old man in front of him and become his personal apprentice.

Jian Wuji retracted his complex thoughts and continued to climb the mountain.

The grazing and holding rings are two stories about repaying kindness; the former tells that an official married his father's concubine and did not allow her to be buried with her. In order to repay her daughter's kindness, the dead father wrapped the weeds on the ground into knots, tripping the benefactor's opponent, and letting the benefactor win; the latter tells that a child saved the life of a trapped yellow bird. The yellow bird brought four white rings, claiming that this ring can ensure that the benefactor's son is white for generations and holds a high position; later generations combined the two allusions into one sentence, which is a metaphor for receiving favors, which is to repay the favors with one's own kindness, and will never stop life and death; that is, "holding the ring and tie the benefactor's grass".

Jian Wuji didn't know much. "Holding a ring and grinding grass" was his charred father. The only truth he taught him was also a story passed down from generation to generation by people in southern Xinjiang.

The grace of saving lives is to hold a ring of grass.
Chapter completed!