One hour later, Mo Hua saw Longquan Waterfall.

The Si River is cross-cut, and the green mountains and black cliffs are green.

The turbulent river water is like white, hanging upside down, forming a waterfall, and being torn apart by mountains and rocks, scattering down like silk.

Beautiful and spectacular.

Mo Hua and the other three were surprised to see it, with three pairs of eyes shining.

Tongxian City is relatively dry, with more mountains and few rivers.

I have never seen such a big waterfall in the ink painting.

Although Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi were from a noble family, they were raised in the family when they were young and walked on the road when they went out, so they rarely saw such natural scenery.

The waterfall splashed on the rocks, and the water droplets fell, making it as round as jade.

The clouds and mist in the mountains and the mist of the waterfalls condense into a hazy area, weaving the sunlight into a gorgeous color.

The ink painting was fascinating, and suddenly I was a little confused:

"Master, why is this waterfall called Longquan Waterfall?"

It's just a waterfall, neither dragon nor spring.

And it doesn't look like a dragon either.

Mr. Zhuang's eyes flashed across the waterfall and looked at the colorful mist, with a look of emotion:

"There was once a sword hidden here. The sword was named Longquan, so the name of the waterfall is also called Longquan."

"Longquan Sword..."

Mo Hua silently recited it and asked again, "Is it a good sword?"

Mr. Zhuang was slightly stunned, his eyes were obscure, and he murmured:

"It's a good sword, very suitable for its owner..."

As if he remembered some past events, Mr. Zhuang's eyes were a little sad, and there were also some indescribable regrets and regrets.

Mo Hua's eyes lit up and she immediately understood.

There must be a story here!

But he didn't ask, even if he asked, his master would definitely not say it.

"Longquan Sword..."

Mo Hua silently wrote down the name of the sword.

...

After passing Longquan Waterfall, the group continued to go south.

It is still far from Dalishanzhou.

The cultivation world is very large, and it is divided into nine provinces.

Among the nine states, each state has a vast territory, and at a glance, it is boundless.

Within the nine provinces, state boundaries are divided according to grade.

Each state has different mountains and rivers and scenery, and monks build cities based on the mountains, and their food and clothing have different characteristics and customs.

As the ink painting walks and looks at it, it broadens the horizons and gains a lot of insights.

When you encounter some special ingredients, you will buy ink paintings. Please ask the local monks for their methods, and then try some for Mr. Zhuang and his seniors.

Although they may not be delicious, they are indeed different in flavor and are very special.

Pu Lao doesn't like these meals.

He only likes to eat nuts such as pine nuts and hazelnuts.

Sometimes when I encounter it, I will buy ink paintings and stir-fry them for Pu Lao to eat.

Or there are some ancient trees in the mountains, and unknown pine, seeds, or fruits have been produced on the trees. If they are not poisonous, they will pick some ink paintings and stir-fry them for Kuang to try.

In return, Mr. Kuang often gives advice on the magic of ink painting:

"Your fireball skills are well learned and used, but they are a bit complicated."

Ink painting also has this question.

The fireball technique he used in reality was dark red in color and showed a trace of coagulation.

But his manifested fireball technique in the sea of ​​consciousness was bright red in color, and his spiritual power was like silk, stacked layer by layer, like a ball of flames wrapped together with spiritual silk.

After Mo Hua explained to Mr. Kuai, he asked:

"Grandpa Puppet, which direction should I choose to practice?"

Is it the spiritual power deepening or the spiritual power transforming into silk?

Mr. Kuang shook his head and said:

"When two choices are placed in front of you, don't think about which one to choose first, but think about whether you can both."

"If you can choose, choose everything."

"You can't choose everything, and then make a choice."

"At the beginning, the monks who thought of choosing one of them were all elm-headed."

The ink painting opened its mouth.

He didn't expect that the always serious old man Kuo said such words.

"What if there is no choice between two?" Mo Hua asked in a low voice.

"Then you don't have to spend time on this matter. Even if you think about things that cannot be chosen, it is meaningless and just a waste of time." said Mr. Kuang.

Mo Hua nodded and agreed.

Then he remembered something and frowned:

"Grandpa Puppet, what if someone in the future will force me to have a dilemma?"

Old Kuang said directly: "Then you kill that person!"

Mo Hua was stunned.

Old Kuang said again: "Kill that person, no one will force you to choose, you will have everything."

"What if I can't beat him, what if I can't kill him?"

"Then you can only blame yourself for being incompetent." Old Kuo said hoarsely, "In this case, you are forced to do whatever you choose. It doesn't matter."

Mo Hua nodded, "So you must be strong, so that you can choose what you want in the future..."

After thinking about it for a while, Mo Hua suddenly realized that it was a bit too far, so he talked about the spell again:

"Grandpa Puppet, can I both have the two changes in the fireball technique?"

Old Kuai nodded, "The fireball is deep red, in the state of spiritual power, the fireball is a form of spiritual power. The two do not conflict, they can both, but..."

Old Kuo looked at the ink painting, "It's very difficult."

Mo Hua asked, "How to do it?"

Old Kuo hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to say it, but after looking at the pine nut shells he had eaten all over the floor, he was a little bit short-speakable, and said:

"It's still a little early for you to learn now, but you can learn about it first."

The ink painting immediately sat upright and listened carefully.

But Mr. Kuang didn't say anything, but took out a ball of cotton from nowhere.

This ball of cotton wool is ordinary cotton wool.

The old Puppet's palm condenses, and the cotton wool is under pressure, compresses itself, twists it together to form a cotton thread.

The eyes of the Mo Hua were slightly bright and thoughtful.

After the old man, he took out a ball of cotton wool, made the same method, compressed it and twisted it together to form another cotton thread...

It has been condensed into more than ten cotton threads.

Old Pu’s eyes turned cold and his spiritual sense moved.

More than a dozen cotton threads are twisted and entangled in an instant, seemingly irregular, but they are condensed together in a rhythmic manner, and knitted into a ball of thread.

This thread is the same size as the cotton wool before.

But the internal structure is completely different.

Old Kuang looked at Mo Hua and asked, "Do you understand?"

Mo Hua frowned and said the truth:

"I understand...a little bit..."

"It's okay, just remember it."
To be continued...