Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-One (Refreshed and Readable) Today's Autumn Qi is sassy, ??it is sui
In the underground palace of the emperor's mausoleum, when he saw Zhao Rong leaving the main hall and walking to the back hall without saying a word, Gui couldn't help but fell into deep thought...
"Zhao Rong."
It couldn't help but call out.
The broken-arm Confucian scholar said nothing, clutched the jade plaque and sachet, and continued to move forward.
At this time, a certain purple-clothed sword spirit thought about it and said seriously:
"Zhao Rong, could it be that you...want to have a good time before you die?"
The young Confucian scholar who walked forward silently couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth, paused slightly, shook his head speechlessly, and then continued to move forward.
At this moment, the white jade tablet was radiating heat continuously, as if a piece of black jade thousands of miles away was being rubbed hard by a woman with autumn eyes. The white jade tablet was a little hot to the touch.
The one-armed Confucian scholar still ignored it and just held it tightly.
He walked through the long and narrow corridor and came to the closed door of the apse.
There is a huge stone gate here, blocking Zhao Rong's way.
There was faint movement of living people behind the door.
According to the map of the imperial mausoleum, the concubines in the harem left behind by the late Emperor Dali who had no power to restrain a chicken were buried in this closed tomb.
Zhao Rong thought for a while, walked to the right side of the stone door, stopped at the seventh floor on the right, squatted down, tapped the stone slab, and then opened it. According to his memory, he turned on the stone door switch.
Accompanied by a slight "bang" sound.
The heavy stone door slowly opened.
Zhao Rong immediately walked into the door. After seeing the situation in the palace clearly, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Everyone is here.
The light in the apse was dim, but the shimmer of the pearl on the dome overhead was indeed brighter than outside, and the figures could almost be seen clearly.
Zhao Rong looked around carefully. In his field of vision, the eighteen masked women in white clothes that he had seen outside at the waterfall and pool that day were all there. Many of them.
They were sitting neatly on their knees in the hall. The white cloth that covered their eyes had been removed, but the white gauze that covered their faces was still there, and their beautiful faces could not be seen.
What surprised Zhao Rong was that these concubines and widows, who looked very young and beautiful but had a miserable fate, looked as if they had never cried before. Before he came in, they seemed to be raising their heads to the dome.
The crystal glazed moon bowed reverently.
Is this the divorced daughter of Zhong Ling Shenxiu? She is indeed an unusual woman from the mountains.
Zhao Rong looked at it a few more times and nodded.
At this moment, because of this unknown outsider who suddenly broke in, the salutes and prayers of the eighteen masked young women in white were interrupted. They all looked back in surprise and turned away.
They couldn't help but stand up, and then took a few steps back, away from the one-armed scholar at the door, and retreated to the depths of the back hall.
He looked at him with different eyes.
At this time, Zhao Rong withdrew his eyes from the figure of a seemingly underdeveloped little girl among the crowd in the hall, shook his head slightly, and muttered, "She's really a bit of an animal."
Then he lowered his eyes, no longer paying attention to the different looks in the eyes of the women in the palace, and started his last thing...
Tear!
There was a sound of fabric tearing.
The one-armed scholar blocking the door lowered his head and began to tear his clothes.
In the back hall, the eighteen masked young women gathered around couldn't help but stare and took a few steps back.
Then the next second, they were stunned again and stopped retreating.
Because the dirty one-armed Confucian scholar in front of him, who seemed to be tearing off his clothes in a hurry, suddenly knelt down on one knee, spread the fabric he tore off on the marble floor flatly on the marble floor, and then used his kneeling knee to support it.
The one-armed Confucian scholar's right sleeve was empty and soaked with dark red liquid. At this time, the roughly bandaged broken arm seemed to be dripping with dark red liquid.
But he didn't seem to care about this. He directly raised his left hand, put his index and middle fingers together, and smeared a finger full of dark red liquid from the blood-red and wet sleeve.
The one-armed Confucian scholar used his pointing pen to write vigorously on the cloth on the ground.
The eighteen masked young women in the hall looked at each other in confusion.
This miserable and embarrassed scholar with a broken arm... is he writing a book in blood?
The one-armed Confucian scholar who was kneeling on one knee and writing lowered his head, pursed his lips and said nothing, focusing on writing. From time to time, he raised his two fingers again to add "pen and ink" to the blood-red sleeve.
The hall fell into silence.
Only the one-armed scholar's heavy breathing and the sound of his two fingers rubbing against the ground were particularly loud.
After a moment, a complex map and corresponding text written in blood slowly appeared under his fingertips...
The one-armed Confucian scholar wrote wildly in calligraphy, writing in one go. After finishing writing, he withdrew his two bloody fingers that were trembling slightly.
He stood up slowly with one hand on the ground, his bright eyes still staring at the bloody book on the ground, his brows furrowed, and he didn't know what he was thinking.
The next moment, in the sight of eighteen masked women in white clothes, the one-armed Confucian scholar pinched and wiped his blood-stained fingers several times on the relatively clean clothes around his waist, reached into his arms, and took out a
A white jade plaque and a small sachet.
The one-armed Confucian scholar bent down and was about to gently throw the two objects next to the blood book, but he paused midway.
The one-armed Confucian scholar frowned, sighed hard, tore off another piece of fabric from his clothes, then knelt down on one knee, and wrote another piece of blood like before.
Then he put this small piece of blood book into the small sachet.
The one-armed Confucian scholar threw the jade tablet and sachet beside the large piece of blood book.
There are also some vigorous and powerful texts at corresponding locations on the map, which introduce in detail the corresponding mechanism techniques at specific locations. In addition, there are various
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PS: Brothers, refresh at three o'clock in the morning. It seems to be in good condition today, cough cough.