Article 321

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She is a soft and frail woman who always speaks softly. She is like the green fruits on the trees in early autumn, hidden behind the lush leaves. The smell is not as fragrant as the flowers, and the color is not attractive, but it is very attractive. Her slender and plump body is filled with endless beauty. It's green and tender, as if you can taste the sweet and sour taste of the juice with just one bite.

Only when you gnaw deep into the fruit will you find a rotten and smelly bug lying inside, dead inside the core, with pus oozing from its body and moldy spots.

Admittedly, compared to him, Song Qiutong didn't seem to have done anything heinous in his previous life. It was nothing more than betraying the Rufeng Sect who had saved her life. It's just that when Mo Ran massacred the city, he paid tribute to Ye Wangxi to protect himself. It's nothing more than that, when Linyi Corpse Mountain was a sea of ​​​​blood, she was overjoyed because of the reward from Mo Ran. She wore gold and silver, dressed herself up, and carefully served her new master.

It was nothing more than that, after the massacre, she expressed her sincerity and cried bitterly in front of Ye Wangxi's corpse, which would never speak again, saying that Ye Wangxi treated her cruelly and never gave her a good life, otherwise When Mo Ran comes, I'm afraid she will have to work as a horse for someone named Ye for the rest of her life.

anything else?

The ink burned silently and thought.

what else?

Nangong Si was an impatient person, so some dishes were delayed, so he rushed them. So only the couple from the previous life were left in the wing.

"Master Mo, let me propose a toast to you." She poured a glass of wine for him, half of her forearm sticking out of her sleeves, and there was a bit of bright red cinnabar on her wrist.

By some strange mistake, Mo Ran raised his hand and grabbed her wrist.

She groaned softly, raised her eyes, and looked at him in panic, her eyes as soft as green onions with water: "Mr. Mo, what are you..."

Mo Ran stared at her face for a while, then lowered his eyes and stopped on her slender Su hand.

"What a pair of hands." After a long time, he whispered with a cold expression, "Can Miss Song play chess?"

"Slightly, briefly understand one or two."

"With such good hands, they can play a good game of chess." He said coldly. The sound of Nangong Si's footsteps could be heard outside, as well as his domesticated wolf dog, barking at the door.

"I'm sorry." Mo Ran loosened Song Qiutong's thin wrist, then took a handkerchief and carefully wiped his fingers.

The glow outside illuminates the dragon's light, and here there is a grand banquet on the terrace in the spring night.

Mo Ran's expression remained as usual, as if nothing had happened. Although Song Qiutong was despised for no reason, she had always been able to endure it. She even stood up during the dinner and poured a glass of wine for Mo Ran.

He didn't drink the wine she poured out, so he never touched the glass again.

Nangong Si said: "Brother Mo, the Lingshan Conference will be here soon. You are Master Chu's disciple after all, so you can't let him lose face. Are you ready?"

"I dont go."

"...You're not serious, are you?"

"Really." Mo Ran smiled and said, "It's enough for my cousin to go. All the sects in the world are rushing to Lingshan. I'm afraid of the excitement and don't want to go."

Nangong Si didn't seem to believe it at all. He narrowed his brown eyes with an expression like a hawk watching fire.

But Mo Ran's eyes were open and he looked at him without reservation.

The eagle stared at the rock for a while, and found that the rock was really just a rock, hiding neither cunning rabbits nor slippery snakes.

He leaned back in his chair, twirled his chopsticks, and suddenly grinned: "That's interesting, so I won't see you at the Lingshan Conference?"

"You can't see me anymore."

Nangong Si raised his hand to his forehead and sneered: "Master Chu's disciples are so powerful that it is not unusual for them to attend such a grand event."

"..."

Mo Ranxin said, this is really hard to say, how to explain it? Could it be that you tell Nangong Si that this is not the case? He is an old man in his thirties who pretends to be a corpse. He lets Ta Xianjun fight with a group of fledgling children. Then he sits on the stage and sits in a circle with the people who were killed and beaten by him in his previous life. If you beat the leader, these leaders will give him a small sign and give him a small score.

...It's just nonsense.

After coughing, he said: "It's not that I don't want to participate, but I'm not good at orthodox techniques and my knowledge is not solid. If I go, I might embarrass my master. Mr. Nangong has such good skills, so he should be proud of himself. Just stop laughing at me."

An innocent little bird like Xue Meng would probably be very happy after hearing this, feeling that Mo Ran had made the right move, but Nangong Si was in a Confucian sect with complex factions, and had lost his mother since he was a child. In fact, life is not that simple, so after listening to Mo Ran's compliment, he just smiled and did not feel careless.

He took a few sips of wine, his Adam's apple rolling, and then he wiped it with his sleeve and said, "Since Mr. Mo is not participating in the competition, it is clear to all bystanders, why not take a guess, who will be the leader of this competition?"

"..." Mo Ran thought, you really asked the right person.

Who else knows better than him who the flowers will fall into? Except for the fake Gouchen who was most likely to be reborn, Mo Weiyu was of course the only one left in the world who knew the outcome of the Lingshan sword debate.

The winner is...

"Nangong Si."

Suddenly, the beaded curtain of the box was swept aside, and in the flickering halo, there was a calm face half-shrouded in shadow. The two men in the room had not yet responded, but Song Qiutong suddenly stood up as if he had been pricked by a needle. His face was full of pitiful panic, he lowered his head and apologized: "Ye, Mr. Ye."

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