The bright moon dominated the world during the Qin Dynasty

On the tree-lined path, Zhao Shuang took a cattail leaf fan and rested under the tree.

A small stall was set up beside the road with tea.

During the war, the villagers of Zhaojiacun served as mercenaries and accepted tasks from various countries. In normal times, I occasionally do some cutting work to earn some gray income.

In the eyes of the Zhao family, the young Zhao Shuang is just a fat guy with an ordinary appearance. Because he has a good relationship with the leader, he always fails to work hard when he is on assignment.

"Why does the patriarch want us to set up a stall here? This is not a trade road?"

"Look at the roadside here, there's not even a human figure."

Several villagers from Zhaojia Village were chatting while placing goods.

They didn't do this kind of thing just once or twice.

After Qin captured Yingdu, Nanyang County was peaceful for a long time. As mercenaries, they can meet their food needs through farming, but they still need to trade goods to make up for the lack of arrows and armor.

Cutting trails is a technical job, not to mention that Zhao Laosi is a bandit with ideals.

Don't dare to eat those who are too fat, because they are probably the subordinates of some nobles, and it will be bad if it attracts revenge; you can't eat those who are too thin, because they are seeking wealth, not life.

Several villagers present were very clever. They arranged the ingredients and started cooking.

"Zhao Shuang, we are short of firewood, so we will burn your junk."

"Burn it, burn it!"

Zhao Shuang didn't care at all.

The villagers in Zhaojia Village rarely read or practice calligraphy. Most of them only recognize the terminology used when marching and fighting.

Zhao Shuang is an exception. Zhao Laosi taught him to read and write since he was a child. Even relatively expensive items such as bamboo slips, which ordinary people could not use, were provided to him in unlimited quantities.

Zhao Shuang had nothing to do, so he wrote poems about future generations on it. He once wanted to write a novel, but considering the audience and length, he decided to forget it!

After all, the articles of this era are mainly about the essentials. There are hundreds of schools of thought, each of which has splendid masterpieces, some of which are tens of thousands of words, while some of which are only a few thousand or a few hundred words.

If you write novels in this era, you will definitely lose money to your grandma’s family.

Zhao Shuang was a little surprised as to why his bamboo slips were taken out among the debris. But he didn't care, after all, he himself threw these rags everywhere.

At three o'clock in the morning, a fragrance came from the steamer. The broth was simmering in the stove and was bubbling.

Finally, the stall welcomed its first customer.

The person who came was fresh and handsome, and his clothes were extraordinary. He was undoubtedly the fat man in the eyes of the villagers of the Zhao family.

Xun Kuang also seemed a little strange, why is there such a stall on this deserted mountain road?

His eyes flickered, and he soon noticed Zhao Shuang who was sleeping.

"You are young, but your cultivation is profound. I have never seen this technique before."

Xun Kuang murmured, and villagers from Zhaojia Village had already come to greet him.

Xun Kuang sat down and looked around, but he saw the unfinished bamboo slips beside the stove.

"Sir, you've been on such a hard journey, please take a sip of tea."

Before the tea was in his mouth, Xun Kuang already understood it somewhat.

"Little brother, look at what valuable things I have on me. If you want it, I can give it to you. There is no need to use such means."

After saying that, Xun Kuang threw away the tea in the cup, feeling a little regretful.

"Too bad for this tea."

"No, it's tough."

Just when the villagers in Zhaojiacun were at war with each other, Xun Kuang stretched out his hand and put his fingers together, and the piece of bamboo scattered beside the stove fell into his hand.

"Get things from across the sky."

The villagers in Zhaojiacun looked at this scene and were horrified. Could this man be the legendary master?

All Xun Kuang's attention was on this bamboo slip.

"I joined the army at the age of fifteen and returned home at the age of eighty. When I met someone from my hometown, I asked: Who is there at home?"

Xun Kuang was facing the sword, but he didn't realize it. Instead, he asked friendly questions.

"I wonder who wrote this poem?"

It's a weird picture.

A dozen people with swords faced an unarmed man. However, the offensive and defensive momentum is completely different.

Zhao Shuang was sleeping, but he woke up when he smelled the fragrance and saw this scene.

"What's going on? The work isn't done yet?"

Zhao Shuang didn't care at all, just took a steamed bun and started eating it.

"Little brother, you wrote this poem."

"So be it!"

Anyway, there is no such thing as intellectual property in this era, Zhao Shuang shamelessly admitted it.

"You are so young, but you have such compassion. Why did you become a bandit?"

Xun Kuang was a little curious. This little fat man was the youngest, about ten years old, but he had a special status among this group of people.

"Of course it's for the money."

Xun Kuang didn't expect that he would get such an answer, and he was a little helpless.

"What's your name, little brother?"

"Zhao Shuang."

"Zhao?"

Xun Kuang seemed to understand a little and asked.

"I am about to go to Guigu Valley to attend the invitation of my old friend. Little brother, are you willing to go with me?"

Before Zhao Shuang could give an answer, Xun Kuang took Zhao Shuang's shoulders and disappeared in front of everyone in a few moments, leaving behind the Zhao family's villagers who were confused.

In the forest, Zhao Laosi looked at this scene and smiled slightly.

"A gentleman can be deceived. Xun Kuang, after all, you still can't let go of your love for talents!"

In the mountain hut, under the eaves, spider webs were woven, and a huge spider was waiting for prey.

Hundreds of swordsmen marched through the mountains and forests and surrounded the hut.

The eight top-notch swordsmen had gathered almost all of Luo Wang's most elite forces, and they came to this unknown place to capture the most important traitor in the history of Luo Wang.

The door opened, revealing a bloodthirsty swordsman with a look of disappointment on his face.

For more than a hundred years, few people have been able to make the net come loose. But at this moment, their target was sitting cross-legged on the ground, breathless.

Obviously, he doesn't have long to live.

"Senior Hidden Sun!"

The previous master of the Sun-Concealing Sword had been on the run for many years after defecting. Except for the days spent in Zhaojiacun, the rest of the time was spent in this barren mountain.

Until not long ago, Luo Wang got news about him.

"I haven't used the name Hiding the Sun for a long time, and I don't need it anymore."

These swordsmen have been active for many years and have killed countless powerful enemies. But for a person who is about to die, it makes no difference whether to kill him or not.

"Don't you think it's a pity to abandon this sword?"

"I am the strongest sword, what's the shame?"

The old swordsman exuded a powerful aura, which made these top-notch swordsmen who had experienced bloody killings feel a chill in their hearts.

Some people even couldn't help but draw their swords.

This in itself is an act of weakness.

It is these top killers in the world who can feel the old man's power, but cannot understand the meaning of his words.

"We are here. In addition to taking your life, we also want to know where the "Ling Zhang Sword Technique" is?"

"It already has a descendant!"

"who is it?"

"You will encounter it sooner or later."

The corners of the old swordsman's mouth were slightly raised, as if his words were foreshadowing something, and he slowly closed his eyes.

For some reason, the moment he closed his eyes, all the top swordsmen in the world breathed a sigh of relief.