Chapter 70

Chen ang couldn't help laughing when he heard the speech. Murong Bo's ambition to restore the country has lost his mind. For national affairs, he can sacrifice everything and use everything without sacrificing means. He puts personal grievances and the happiness of his family in the second place. But this ruthlessness can be called an owl.

Even though he was very concerned about murongfu at this time, in the face of his humiliating enemy, as long as he was valuable, he even tried every means to win over. I don't know whether it was ridiculous or pathetic. From a certain point of view, such perseverance is admirable.

"Old Sir, you underestimate Chen!" Chen ang said negatively, "the great cause you pursue may be worth everything in your eyes, but what is it in Chen's eyes?"

"What you said is that the earth is sealed as the king, with great fame and wealth." Chen ang gave a slight meal and turned to look at Murong Bo. "I'm sorry, Chen still doesn't pay attention."

"All achievements and fame in the world are dust. I just want to be like this bright moon for thousands of years."

His tone was calm and his eyes were sincere, but the content made murongbo unable to suppress his anger. "If you refuse, just refuse me. Pull these empty words to make me look down on you. I just ask you, will you share the great song dynasty with me?"

"No!"

A clear voice, without a trace of anxiety, came from Chen ang.

Murong Bo held his fists, and a layer of tenacious Qi appeared on his two iron fists. Duan Yu even saw Murong Bo trembling slightly, obviously trying to suppress himself. "You have to think clearly. If you say it, you can't recover it."

"I thought I had made it very clear. If you still don't understand, I'll say it again." Chen ang said coldly. Murongbo's answer was only the decisive word.

"No"

"Good, good, good!" Murong Bo even said three "good" words. He was already in a hurry. He was calm and raised his palm. Duan Yu felt it a few feet away. However, Murong Bo was silent. He suddenly put down his meat palm. With a flash of his body, he took down a large hand hung by Chen ang on the wall.

This surprised Chen ang. He didn't give up the hope of persuading him. Indeed, he is an indomitable and flexible generation of owls. His mind is much more tenacious than Murong Fu. It's a pity that Murong Bo has no talent in overall strategic situation, which can be seen from Murong Fu.

Wang Yuyan once said that murongfu "wants to be a Hu, not a Chinese, not even a Chinese character, not a Chinese book." with such ridiculous ideas, they also want to restore the country. They are afraid that they have never thought about how many Xianbei people there are in the world, and what do their Xianbei country take as its foundation?

It's so shallow politically. Only with a fairly good martial arts can we make waves in the Wulin. Chen ang can see that Murong Bo seems to want to repeat his old skills and convince him with his martial arts. Chen ang did not know whether to praise him or ridicule his innocence.

In the world, there are not many people who are proficient in hundreds of martial arts. Murong Bo is one of the few. It's really rare to have such an opponent. It can prove hundreds of martial arts and can't compare with Chen ang.

Chen ang took down a big hair hanging on the table. The ink on the nib has not dried up. Duan Yu looked at it and said to himself: in a hurry, brother Chen and his brother used a lot of calligraphy and painting. The nibs they used were all soft hairs. The nib was soft and the pen holder was loose. How can they hurt people? Compared with them, they won't really fight for life and death.

Before he could recover his mind, he saw Murong Bo waving his pen and touching Chen Ang's left cheek. Under his powerful internal power, the pen tip was much more sharp than the blade of the sword. Under the agitation of energy, the air was like splashing ink and waving a brush, which turned into a thick and colorful illusion. His pen power was complete.

Duan Yu said in surprise: this man's handwriting is so powerful. As I have seen in my life, uncle Zhu Danchen is the first person in the judge's pen. He is a little worse than old Mr. Murong. This dharma is full of muscles and bones. In the past, uncle Zhu taught me to read and said Yan Jin Liu Gu. When I see it today, I know what muscles and bones are.

Murong Bo's style is breathtaking, word by word. The point is like a falling stone, and the gold and stone are open under the nib; The painting is like summer clouds, flowing clouds and water in the middle; The hook is like bending gold, which seduces the soul and soul between turns; The Ge is like a crossbow. When it is danced, the strong wind roars, with vertical and horizontal images and low ambition.

The move is inseparable from Chen Ang's important acupoint. It is like a silver blade and iron pole. It is more fierce than a sword.

"What a monument of Zang huaike!" Chen ang praised.

In mid air, Chen ang lifted his pen gently and gracefully. Duan Yu saw a small pen, which was blocked between the strength of Murong Bo's pen. As soon as he lifted it, he hit the place where Murong Bo's pen power was scattered. It was elegant, round and beautiful. Either in regular script or in regular script, or in flow, or in flow. He wrote his own comfort in Murong Bo's big pen.

The tips of their pens did not intersect, and all they did were empty moves, but Murong Bo did not start smoothly with his pens. He just felt that it was difficult to write. For several times, he couldn't write that kind of pleasure. His efforts were intermittent and his heart was bent. On the contrary, Chen ang was free and unrestrained, and his pen was very natural and unrestrained.

Murong Bo blocked his pen several times, but he was passive to Chen Ang's splash ink. He only had time to parry. Seeing Chen Ang's "clear post when snow is fast", he wrote more and more smoothly. However, his pen was in a mess. He was anxious. He simply forcibly disassembled it in the way of a weapon. In Duan Yu's eyes, he knew that he had lost more than half.

"Now that it's here, it's better to be simple." Murong Bo was cruel in his heart. Regardless of the artistic conception, he only used the most basic judge's writing skills. When he made a large number of points, the side edge fell precipitously, and he spread his brush without a trace, which was enough to close the edge, forcing Chen ang to turn back and protect with great force. When it is horizontal, it is like falling paper against the front. It goes slowly and returns quickly, from Le Chenang's throat.

Murongbo repeatedly used the eight methods of Yongzi and eight methods of exerting force to turn back and forth and bump back and forth, which could not form a whole word. Only the strokes are hard and there are no rules. It is obviously an idea to draw even with Chen ang.

Unexpectedly, Chen ang laughed and changed his writing style from "sunny note in fast snow" to "preface to Lanting", "nine years of Yonghe, the age of Guichou." the first character of Yonghe was to point the side points, rein in the front, make great efforts, hook, propose strategies, skim, short skim, Peck and press one by one, forcing Murong Bo to have only the power to parry.

When I wrote about "the beginning of late spring", the word "Zhi" was like a dragon and a snake landing. There was a real pen strength in the air. It swept across the landscape, and there was no one who could stop it.

Murong Bo's face snapped loudly, and a pen edge scratched a lightning like crease on his face, just a little afterwave. When he was about to retreat, another word "Zhi" came out of Chen Ang's pen. The blade was broken, Murong Bo tried to support it, and a red mark appeared on his hand.

In Chen Ang's works, the twenty characters are thrilling, just like heaven and man's sword. Duan Yu's mind swayed and couldn't help himself. "Good martial arts and calligraphy are nothing more than Wang Youjun's in the world." has he ever seen such wanton writing? I just think this technique, used there, is a wonderful and moving spirit.

Murong Bo was sweating and blocking the left and right. Later, he simply played Lai and spread his body method. He came and went vertically and horizontally in a small inner room. He said in a hurry: "good martial arts. I admit defeat this time. The governor might as well watch me wave."

Stepping on his foot, he soared into the air. He waved his pen like a big axe. His strength was like the vastness of the Yangtze River. In his pen, he broke and broke like a wave. Thousands of horses rushed and crashed in front of Chen ang. In Chen Ang's pen, he set off waves several feet high. It was really like turbid waves emptying, overturning rivers and seas and destroying everything.

However, no matter how surging the momentum is in murongbo's works, Chen ang is as smooth as a mountain and towering waves. In his works, he is obedient as a tamed sheep. With a calm and gentle taste. If you say that murongbo's works are rivers and seas, hooks, chaps, rubs, dots and dyes are full of momentum.

Chen ang is like a high mountain, standing still, with a small pen and a big coat of hemp and chaps. He has the lofty and motionless spirit of Mount Tai. Chen ang is independent with his left hand and leisurely faces all the attacks of Murong Bo. A small pen, like a spirit, goes against the waves, like a flying swift, suddenly rushes to the top of the waves, sometimes falls to the trough, and walks freely in the surging energy.

Little by little, it seems that the red sun rises at the beginning and the mist disperses. A corner of the green mountain outside the sky is blocked in the middle of the river. The green mountain is happy and does not move. With a small pen, the veil of the green mountain is slowly lifted. A towering peak stands in the middle of the river to block its way. It is unshakable to let the turbid waves roll.

Murongbo's writing became narrower and narrower, as if a huge peak stood in front of him, allowing him to toss a large amount of money, which had been slowly oppressed. His momentum was dignified and intimidated hundreds of millions of people, which made him sad to vomit blood. He couldn't stop. He had to let the large amount go more and more biased and gradually go to extremes.

Finally, he bumped into the mountain and broke bones.

"Pa!" with a loud noise, Murong Bo's huge pen in his hand burst and scattered into thousands of filaments. Murong Bo's face was gray and looked at his empty hands.