Fantasy World Transmigration

Chen Ang heard that he couldn't help laughing, and Murong Bo's ambition to restore the country has fascinated him. For national affairs, no means can be sacrificed, everything can be used, and personal grievances and family happiness can be used. Putting everything in second place, but this vicious one can be called a hero.

Even though he was very concerned about Murong Fu at this time, in the face of his insulted enemy, as long as it was valuable, he was also drawn in all ways. I do n’t know if it was ridiculous or pitiful. In some ways, such perseverance is worth admiring.

"Mr. Old, you look down on Chen!" Chen Ang said negatively. "The grand cause you are pursuing may be worth everything to you in your eyes, but in Chen's eyes, what is it? ? "

"What you said, the King is cracking the earth, and the fame and wealth are rich." Chen Ang gave a slight meal and turned to look at Murong Bo. "Sorry, Chen is not in my eyes yet."

"The world's fame and reputation are all dust, and I only wish that the moon would be as bright as ever."

His tone was calm and his eyes were sincere, but the content let Murongbo suppress the anger in his heart. "If your lord is unwilling to say no to me, just try to make these false words so that the old man looks down on you. I only ask you if you would not Divided this great Song Jiangshan with me? "

"Not willing!"

Wu Qinglang's voice, without a trace of anxiety, came from Chen Ang.

Murongbo held his fists tightly. On the two iron fists, a tough layer of tenacity appeared. Duan Yu even saw Murongbo tremble slightly, apparently trying to suppress himself. "You need to think clearly. If you say something, it will be difficult to cover the water."

"I thought I had already spoken very clearly. If you still don't understand, I will say it again." Chen Ang coldly, the answer Murengbo heard was still only the decisive word.

"Will not"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Murong Bolian said the three "good" words, already anxious, he held his palms with deep palms and strong palm strength. After a moment of silence, he suddenly lowered the palm of his hand and flickered, taking off a large pen hanging on the wall by Chen Ang.

倒 This surprised Chen Ang a bit, so much that he didn't give up the hope of persuading him. It was a persevering generation, a generation that was able to bend and stretch, and had a stronger mind than Murong returned. It is a pity that Murong Bo has no talent in the overall situation, which can be seen from Murong Fu.

Wang Yuyan once said that Murong Fu "he wants to be Hu Ren, not a Chinese, he doesn't even want to know Chinese characters, and he doesn't want to read Chinese books." With such ridiculous ideas, he also tried to restore his country, and they were afraid Never thought, how many Xianbei people are there in the world, and what is the basis of their Xianbei country?

Politically, this is so shallow, and it is only by virtue of a martial art that is quite clever, that he is making waves in the martial arts. Chen Ang can see that Murong Bo seems to want to re-do the old tricks, with a martial art, to convince him. This spirited approach made Chen Ang not sure whether to praise him for his arrogance or to laugh at him for being naive.

In the world, there are not many people who are proficient in martial arts. Murongbo is just a few of them. It is rare to have such an opponent. It can prove the martial arts of martial arts, and then with Chen Ang But that's it.

Chen Ang took off a big pen hanging on the table. The ink on the pen tip had not dried up. Duan Yu looked down and said, "Big brother Chen is in a hurry. They are using large pens for painting. The nibs used are The soft bristle, the soft nib and the loose pen shaft, how can it hurt people, compared to their point of end, it will not really do a life-and-death struggle.

Before he returned to God, he saw Mu Rongbo making a big stroke and making three points to Chen Ang's left cheek. Under his strong internal force, the pen tip was far better than the blade edge of the sword. Splashing the ink with the slightest change, the illusion of thick and heavy ink is transformed into a pen and bone.

Jian Duanyu was shocked: This man has a very good stroke. I have seen in my life that Uncle Zhu Danchen is the first person in the judge's pen. Compared with Mr. Murong, he is a little worse. This method has all the bones and bones. In the past, Uncle Zhu taught me to read and said that Yan Jinliu bones. I saw it today and I knew what bones and bones are.

Under Murongbo's words, word by word, can be described as thrilling, like a falling stone, the golden stones under the pen tip open; the painting is like Xia Yun, and the flowing clouds are flowing; the hook is like kinking, turning between the transitions; Ge Such as a crossbow, when the galloping wind roars, it is vertical and horizontal, low and ambitious.

Xun Zhaozhao is inseparable from the main point of Chen Ang. A large pen, like a silver iron, is far more powerful than a sword.

"A good pair of" Zang Huaique Monument "!" Chen Ang admired.

In the air, Chen Ang lifted his pen, and it was more gentle and gentle. Duan Yu saw a small pen, which was dismantled between Murongbo ’s vigorous energy. Every time he mentioned it, he went straight to the place where Murongbo ’s pen power was scattered. It is quaint, round and charming, and it can be written or written, or flowed, or flowed. In Murongbo's big pen, he wrote his own comfort.

The nibs of the two did not intersect, which was a false move. However, Murong Bo's use of the pen has not started smoothly, and only feels awkward in his writing. On several occasions, he could not write that kind of pleasure, and he tried to use it intermittently. , Heart trembling endlessly, in contrast to Chen Ang, free and easy, the pen is extremely chic.

Mu Rongbo used his pen several times to dismantle his pen, but was passive in Chen An's splashing ink. He had no choice but to parry. When he saw Chen An's "Clear Snowy Post", the writing became smoother and smoother, but his heart was anxious and simple. Forcibly dismantled in the way of the sword. In Duan Yu's eyes, he knew that he had lost most of it.

"It's better to be a little bit more so now." Murong Bo was ruthless, no matter what his artistic conception was, only the most basic judge's style was used. When he made a big point, he swung his head sharply. Chen Ang turned back to protect, exquisitely. It was Le when it was horizontal, as if it was falling behind the paper, and slowly returned, Le Chen Chen throat.

Murong Bo repeatedly, using these eternal words eight methods, eight forceful methods, upside down, upside down, not a whole word. Only the strokes were strong, and there was no restraint at all, which was obviously trying to equalize Chen Ang's idea.

Unexpectedly, Chen Ang laughed, and the writing changed, from "Xuexue Shiqing Post" to "Lanting Preface", "Yonghe is nine years old, and he is eight years old." The first Yong word will point to the main point. Heng Le Bing Feng, put up a lot of effort, goo, strategizing, skimming, short skimming, puppet, one by one, forcing Murong Bo only to parry.

When Xun wrote "at the beginning of late spring", a word "Zi", like a dragon and a snake rising from the ground, appeared in the air like a stroke of essence. Between the waves, there was nothing to stop.

There was a loud crack on Mu Rongbo's face, and a pen-like stroke made a lightning-like crease on his face, just a little aftermath. He was horrified and couldn't help himself. He was about to step back. It was another ‘Zi’. It was spilled from Chen Ang's pen. The edge was cut off. Murong Bo reluctantly supported it, and a red mark appeared on his hand.

Twenty characters, in Chen Ang's writing, are thrilling, like the swordsmanship of heaven and man, and Duan Yu's heart is swaying, and he ca n’t help himself. “Good martial arts, good calligraphy, Wang Youjun is just like this.” He had never seen such wanton Strokes? I just feel that this method, when used there, is a wonderful and exciting thing.

Murong Bo was sweating all over his head and left and right blocks. Later, he simply started to play and unfolded himself. In a small inner room, he walked up and down, hurriedly saying: "Good martial arts, I admit defeat. Dudu may wish to watch me wave. "

Stepping on the foot, it rises into the air, the pen is like a big axe, and the pen is swung down. The energy is like the Yangtze River, and it rushes away. Under the pen, the break is like a wave. In front of Chen Ang, under Chen Ang's writing, the waves that are several feet high are really empty like turbid waves, overwhelming the river and destroying all the potential.

However, no matter how turbulent Mo Rongbo's writings are, Chen Ang is as stable as a mountain and heaving waves. In his writing, he obeys like a tamed sheep. With a calm and meek taste. If Ruo Bo said that Murong Bo's writing is a big river and the sea, it is full of momentum.

Then Chen Ang is like a mountain peak, standing still, with a small stroke and a large mochi, there is a faint immovable spirit of Mount Tai. Chen Ang loses his left hand independence and leisurely faces Murongbo to do everything s attack. A small stroke, as if it had a spirituality, against the tide of the waves, like a flying Swift, suddenly rushed to the top of the wave, suddenly fell to the trough, and walked freely in the mighty spirit.

Little by little, as if the red sun is rising, the mist is scattered, the green hills leak out of the corner, blocking the middle of the river, and let it be so tidal. The green hills are calm and calm, and the small pen slowly lifts the veil of Qing Shan. The towering peak stands still in the middle of the river to block its way. No matter how the turbid waves roll, it cannot be shaken.

Murongbo's writing is getting narrower and narrower, as if there is a giant peak standing in front of him. No matter how large a pen is tossed, he has been slowly oppressed, with a magnificent momentum and overwhelming pressure, making him sad to vomit blood, Unable to endure, you can only let the big pen go more and more, and gradually go to extremes.

Finally, it hit the mountain peak, and it was broken into pieces.

With a loud bang, Murongbo's huge pen held in his hand burst and burst into thousands of filaments, falling down one after another. Murongbo's face was ashes, looking at his empty hands.