See those dark red fog slightly loose under the weak red light.
Obviously, calcas is tired.
At that moment, Chen Senran saw Lao Du holding his hand loose, and he put his hand into his clothes.
Look like a knife
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Page two hundred and twenty-one Moon Beauty
Chen Senran had been thinking about what kind of knife Lao Du would have if he made a move.
Because he has seen Lao Du’s hands, they are a pair of hands with no calluses and no scars, as smooth as jade. For example, some joints of Chen Senran’s jaws and fingers will grow a thick layer of calluses, and a little higher, like the blade shadow of Chen Senran before. Although his hands have been called clean, it is almost difficult to see that they are a pair of knife practitioners, but if you look closely, you can still find that some knife holders will eventually be unable to erase traces.
Although Chen Senran has never seen Lao Du hold a knife, he has been driving and holding a whip, but he can still be as clean and smooth as a noble Lord who needs to touch women all day in a west coast manor in Demacia.
Can you tell me a question? This old guy’s accomplishments in knives can’t be described by shocking vulgar words.
Then his knife should definitely not be an ordinary knife, but a knife sharp enough to make people feel that their whole body has been killed at a glance.
But when old Du Zhen pulled the knife out of his arms, Chen Senran was completely shocked, because even the ordinary one could not be called a knife.
It’s almost a piece of iron that has been polished and shaped like a knife, or it’s rusted
Chen Senran has no doubt that the iron piece even lacks the ability to cut a hemp rope.
"Do you think it’s funny?" Is about felt Chen Senran consternation for Chen Senran has always been too lazy to say half a sentence Lao du this time suddenly to the interest.
"Surprised" Chen Senran corrected "I was …" He said something in the middle because he knew that this old guy was amazing in front of him. At that moment, he suddenly flashed a knife, which made Chen Senran feel freezing even though he was five yards away from him.
It was like a sharp knife passing through the spine, which was brief but fatal. The hairs on Chen Senran’s back are still standing on end.
At this critical moment, he doesn’t want to offend this old man who should love knives in this section of speech, otherwise it will really outweigh the benefits.
"You thought I should have taken a sharp and cold hand, even at this night, and it was definitely a great craftsman’s knife?" Lao du himself is accepted the woman asked Chen Senran sentence.
Chen Senran was silent for a while, thinking about how to say it properly, but some Lao Du seemed to care nothing about Chen Senran’s answer.
"At the age of seven, I learned to knife, at the age of thirteen, I killed people, at the age of ten, I fought alone, and forty people were in the wilderness. At the age of thirty, Yu Qianjun crossed my hands immediately …" As Lao Du spoke, he raised his hands. "The broken wood knife took the inferior steel knife, the standard saber took the most beautiful treasure knife, and I also took it." His hand slowly turned with his words as if he were silently showing the number of knives for many years.
Chen Senran remained silent. He didn’t know what to say. Although the old guy was saying something so flatly, he almost took a step back in those words.
"I’ve seen all kinds of overbearing and brilliant knives for 50 years." The dark red fog has become thinner and thinner, but Lao Du still has no intention of making moves. "But I finally feel that no matter how good those knives are, they can’t be combined with my soul. The knives can’t be psychic and useless, so I made this knife myself."
This knife is the rusty iron piece that he is holding in his hands.
"There was once a top craftsman in Jodl, Brogelang, who spent ten years working hard to create a sharp gold-cracking stone. The blade was crystal clear, and even in the deepest night, it could shine like moonlight. At that time, the knife lover named it Moon Beauty." Lao Du took the piece of iron in his hand. "The knife fell into my hand and I threw it into the knife store one day later." He stroked the piece of iron with his fingers and rubbed every rust spot from beginning to end.
"Beauty of the Moon …" Lao Du touched the end of the blade and slowly put his hand on it. His fingers slightly flexed. "How dare a knife like that weigh the moon, beauty and people?" The last four words he squeezed out of his teeth word by word, one word was heavier and one word was sharper.
At the last herringbone exit, he flexed his fingers and gently bounced on the rusty iron sheet.
With the strength of that finger spreading on that piece of iron layer by layer, the rust that has accumulated for many years is like rain and a light sound rings from that piece of iron.
Spirit is like the best lyre.
When the last sound of the piano dispersed and the rust fell, the whole piece of iron gave off the purest white light at that moment
The white light is over the dark red light, over the dead gray fog, over the dark red fog, pure and clean.
Like the moon
"Moon Beauty" Lao Du showed off his blade.
That knife is as sharp as ever at the moment.
Chen Senran looked stupefied at the knife that Lao Du held in his hand. At that moment, the sharp and beautiful knife made him forget to breathe.
The dark red fog has left a thin shell. calcas’s hand holding the old staff has been shaking constantly.
A spent force
Chen Senran was brought back to reality by calcas’s bad situation. He once again looked at Lao Du. If he doesn’t make moves, calcas may run out.
Lao Du didn’t speak again. He held the knife hand and pulled it back slightly.
"Watch this." He has reached the limit and has accumulated enough strength.
"The knife is like this." His whole body leans forward slightly to match the knife in his hand and makes a most standard Tibetan knife style.
"out of the knife"
Give a backhand knife
No gorgeous moves, no exaggerated moves.
His voice is hoarse and deep, his tone is as quiet as dead water, and his grip on the knife is as steady as a rock.
He just flatly backhand launched a knife easy, gentle and indifferent, like the old monk preaching, it seems that nothing can be cut.
However, it seems that the world is moving forward in one go, and the river flows eastward naturally, but it seems that he has cut off his 50 years of glory with one knife.
Cut the vicissitudes of life with one knife
Fifty years has passed quickly, like a knife, like a year.
A knife is like seeing heaven and earth