Fantasy World Transmigration

Hearing this, Chen Ang couldn't help laughing. Murong Bo's ambition to restore the country has already fascinated him. For the sake of the country's great affairs, he will sacrifice anything and use anything. Everything is placed in the second place, but this viciousness can be called a hero.

Even though he is very concerned about Murong Fu at this time, but facing himself as a humiliating son and enemy, as long as he has value, he would do everything possible to win him over. I really don't know whether it is ridiculous or pitiful. From a certain point of view, such perseverance is admirable.

"Old man, you underestimate Chen!" Chen Ang said with his hands behind his back: "Perhaps in your eyes, the great cause you are pursuing is worth everything for it, but in Chen's eyes, what is it?" ?”

"What you said is that you can be named a king by cracking the soil, and you will be famous and rich." Chen Ang paused slightly, then turned around and looked at Murong Bo, "I'm sorry, Chen doesn't take it seriously."

"Fame and fame in the world are all dust, I only wish to be like this bright moon, shining through the ages."

His tone was calm and his eyes were sincere, but the content made Murong Bo unable to suppress the anger in his heart, "If your Excellency refuses, just refuse me outright, and talk all these false words until the old man looks down on you. I just ask you, are you willing?" Divided up the Great Song Dynasty with me?"

"No!"

A clear voice, without any anxiety, came from Chen Ang.

Murong Bo tightly clenched his fists, a layer of tenacious vigor faintly appeared on the two iron fists, Duan Yu even saw Murong Bo's body trembling slightly, obviously trying to suppress himself. "Your Excellency, you have to think carefully. If you say it, it will be hard to take back."

"I thought I've made it very clear. If you still don't understand, then I'll say it again." Chen Ang said coldly, and Murong Bo's answer was still only those two words.

"refuse"

"Good, good, good!" Murong Bo said three "good" words in succession, he was already in a hurry, he raised his palm with great concentration, Duan Yu could feel it from a distance of several feet, but Murong Bo After being silent for a while, he suddenly put down his fleshy palm, and with a flash of his figure, he took down a large pen hanging on the wall by Chen Ang.

This made Chen Ang a little surprised, he has reached this point, and he finally did not give up hope of persuading him, he is indeed a generation of heroes who are indomitable, able to bend and stretch, and his ambition is much more tenacious than Murong Fu. It's a pity that Murong Bo doesn't have much talent in strategic planning, this can be seen from Murong Fu.

Wang Yuyan once said that Murong Fu "wants to be a barbarian, not a Chinese, he doesn't even want to know Chinese characters, and he doesn't want to read Chinese books." I never thought about how many Xianbei people there are in this world. What is the foundation of their Xianbei country?

So shallow in politics, he can only make waves in the martial arts world with his fairly superb martial arts. Chen Ang could see that Murong Bo seemed to want to repeat his old tricks and convince him with his martial arts. Chen Ang didn't know whether to praise him for his heroism or ridicule him for his innocence.

In the world, there are not many people who are proficient in a hundred schools of martial arts, and Murong Bo is one of the very few. It is really rare to have such an opponent, who can prove a hundred schools of martial arts, and Chen Ang's heart But that's all.

Chen Ang took down a big pen hanging on the table, the ink on the nib was not dry yet, Duan Yu looked at it and said with relief: Brother Chen and the two of them were in a hurry, they used both calligraphy and painting brushes, and the nibs they used were all ink brushes. Accumulated by soft vellus hairs, soft nibs, and loose pen holders, how can they hurt people, compared to how they point to the end, they will not really fight for life and death.

He hasn't recovered yet,

I saw Murong Bo swipe his big pen and tap three dots on Chen Ang's left cheek. With his strong inner strength, the tip of the pen was sharper than the blade of a sword. Under the agitation of energy, it was like splashing ink in the air, creating a phantom of thick ink and color , The pen is strong and well-equipped.

Duan Yu said in surprise: "This man's writing skills are so powerful, I have seen in my life, Uncle Zhu Danchen is already the first person in the judge's pen, compared to old Mr. Murong, I don't know how much worse. This method is full of muscles and bones. In the past, Uncle Zhu taught me to read, and he talked about the muscles and bones. Now I see it, and I know what muscles and bones are.

Under Murong Bo's swaying, each word is thrilling, the touch is like a falling stone, and the gold and stone are opened under the tip of the pen; Like a crossbow, when dancing, the strong wind howls, vertically and horizontally like an image, low-minded and ambitious.

Every move can't be separated from Chen Ang's key point, a big brush, like a silver-edged iron rod, is far more fierce than a sword.

"What a pair of "Zang Huaike Monument"!" Chen Ang praised.

In mid-air, Chen Ang raised the pen, using force gently and more elegantly. Duan Yu saw a small pen, which was blocked by Murong Bo's swaying energy. Quaint, round and charming, it may run or regular script, or flow and stop, or stop and flow, in the sway of Murong Bo's pen, he wrote a piece of his own comfort.

The nibs of the two did not touch each other, and both of them used false moves, but when Murong Bo used the brush, it was no longer as smooth as it was at the beginning, he just felt that the writing was hard and difficult to write, and several times, he couldn't write the kind of pleasure, and he used his strength intermittently , I felt aggrieved, but looking back at Chen Ang, he was free and easy, and his writing was extremely chic.

Murong Bo blocked his brushwork several times, but was passive by Chen Ang's splashing ink, and had only time to parry. Seeing Chen Ang's "Quick Snow and Sunny Post", the writing became smoother and smoother, but his own writing was messed up. With the way of a weapon, forcibly disassemble it. If it falls into Duan Yu's eyes, one knows that he has already lost more than half of it.

"Since this is the end, why don't you be more straightforward." Murong Bo felt ruthless in his heart, regardless of the artistic conception of the pen, he only used the most basic judge's brushwork. Chen Ang turned around to defend himself, and his strength was incomparably subtle. When it is horizontal, it is strangled, like falling paper against the front, slowing down and rushing back, strangling Chen Ang's throat.

Murong Bo repeatedly used the eight methods of Yongzi, the eight methods of exerting force, upside down, upside down, not a complete character. Only the strokes are strong, without any rules and restrictions, obviously with the intention of drawing Chen Ang down.

Unexpectedly, Chen Ang laughed out loud, and his writing changed from "Quick Snow and Sunny Post" to "Orchid Pavilion Preface", "Yonghe Ninth Year, aged in Gui Chou." Leaning the front horizontally, exerting strength vertically, using hooks, thrusts, plunders, pecks shortly, and pinches one by one, forcing Murong Bo to only have the strength to parry.

When I wrote "the beginning of late spring", a word "Zhi" was like a dragon and a snake taking off from the land, and there appeared in the mid-air a solid pen force, which was invincible and unstoppable.

There was a resounding slap on Murong Bo's face, and a stroke of a pen drew a crease like lightning on his face, just a little aftermath. He was so terrified that he couldn't help himself, and when he was about to back up, another word 'Zhi' was spilled from Chen Ang's pen, the blade folded, Murong Bo tried his best to support it, and another red mark appeared on his hand.

Twenty characters, in Chen Ang's pen, are thrilling, just like the swordsmanship of heaven and man, Duan Yu's heart is swaying, he can't help himself, "Good martial arts, good calligraphy, Wang Youjun is still alive." He has never seen such wanton style of writing? I just feel that this technique, wherever it is used, is a wonderful way to touch people's hearts and minds.

Murong Bo was sweating profusely, he blocked from left to right, then he simply played tricks, unfolded his body skills, walked back and forth in a small inner room, and said anxiously: "Good martial arts, I admit defeat in this battle , the governor may wish to watch me wave my pen."

With one step on the foot, it rises into the sky, the big brush is like a big axe, and when it is swung down, the energy is like the vastness of the Yangtze River, rushing away. In Ang's pen, waves several feet high are set off, really like turbid waves coming from the sky, overturning the river and destroying everything.

However, no matter how turbulent the momentum is in Murong Bo's writing, Chen Ang is as stable as a mountain, and the monstrous waves are as obedient as a tamed sheep in his writing. With a calm and docile flavor. Ruoguo said that Murong Bo's brushstrokes are like the great river and the ocean, where the strokes, textures, rubs, dots, and dyes are all full of momentum.

That Chen Ang is like a high mountain, standing still, with a small brush, covered with mottled hair, even faintly has the majestic and immovable spirit of Mount Tai, Chen Ang is standing alone with his left hand, facing Murong Bo leisurely and doing everything s attack. A small pen seems to have a spirituality. Against the waves, like a flying swift, it sometimes rushes to the top of the waves, and sometimes falls to the troughs, traveling freely in the monstrous energy.

Little by little, as if the red sun was just rising, the mist dissipated, and a corner of the green hills outside the sky leaked out, blocking the middle flow of the big river. The towering peak stands motionless in the middle of the river to block its way out, and it cannot be shaken no matter how the turbid waves roll.

Murong Bo's writing became narrower and narrower, as if there was a giant mountain standing in front of him, no matter how he churned a big pen, it was slowly oppressing, dignified and imposing, making him feel so sad that he wanted to vomit blood. If you can't hold back the trend, you can only let the big pen go further and further, and gradually go to the extreme.

In the end, when it hit the mountain peak, it was crushed to pieces.

"Crack!" With a loud sound, the huge brush that Murong Bo held in his hand burst open, scattered into thousands of filaments, and fell down one after another. Murong Bo's face was ashen, and he looked at his empty hands.