~： The first year story 060, Wuxin Wu

Della's expression was a little excited when he thought that the road he was walking was not the strongest. From small to large, he was the best no matter what he did, studying, fighting, family background and appearance. All of this created his perfect successor to the title. As Dai Lao, who will be worshipped by everyone except the king in the future, how can he allow someone stronger than himself to exist in this world?

Dracula said nothing. He lowered his head and remained silent, but this silence made Dai Lau more suspicious. He slammed the pillars of the corridor and said in a cold voice: "Mr. Dracula, please tell me, what is the strongest character martial arts? After knowing it, I will try to change my personality immediately. I am Never allow...Never allow anyone to have the possibility of surpassing me!"

Dracula glanced at him, then as if to comfort him, stretched out his hand to press his shoulder and motioned him to sit down. Under the gazes of Dylau, Innstown, and Firth, Dracula lowered his head for a moment. Five minutes later, he... finally spoke.

"You can't master that kind of character martial arts. Because...that's the martial arts of'unintentional'."

The snow outside the promenade is still floating. The snowflakes gradually grew larger, and the background was painted white with no flaws.

"Wu Xin Wu, as the name suggests, is a heartless way of fighting. No matter how clever the way humans control their emotions and how strong their self-control, it is inevitable that there will be some emotional fluctuations in the fight. However, master Wuxin People of Zhiwu can completely abandon their feelings and observe the battle in the most objective way. That calmness, patience, and carefulness cannot be learned by anyone. Even an unintentional fighter who only reaches the level of refining the mind, I’m afraid It is also possible to directly challenge the pure spirit powerhouse of the upper level. No... I am afraid that any level concept is meaningless for the unintentional martial artist. The legendary soul-burning level characters are also said to belong to the unintentional martial artist."

Dai Lao snorted, "That's easier, isn't it just to abandon your feelings in the battle? I can do..."

"No, you can't do it." Dracula looked up, glanced at him, and continued, "Have your parents all passed away? Are you worthless, no money, no power, and no power? You? Yes. Since you have these things, it is impossible to be completely "unintentional". Moreover, you want to become stronger, this mood essentially violates the purpose of Wuxinwu. In addition, even if you really have nothing, That's not enough. Because you haven't tasted the pain, your heart is not indifferent because of the pain, and you are so numb that you can't feel the pain that outsiders are inflicting you on."

"Pain? I can bear it!"

"Really? So..." Dracula suddenly grabbed Dai Lau's hand and pressed his finger on the railing of the corridor where he was sitting. Then he took out a rusty nail from his arms and pressed it against the nail cover of his index finger. After that, he raised the crutch in his hand, and he was about to knock it down.

"You...what are you doing! Wait a minute, wait a minute!!!"

Dai Lao, who was still sneering just now, suddenly panicked.

"Don't you say that you can bear it? Piercing your fingers with iron nails is just the first step to endure the pain. The true unintentional warriors have already become indifferent to this kind of pain. Because the pain they endure has already exceeded that of humans. Imagination. Until the end, even after the fear of pain is abandoned, it is truly nothing, without any involvement, and truly reaches the state of "unintentional"."

Dai Lao withdrew his hand, his beautiful fingers were about to be destroyed on the nails, making his handsome face extremely pale. He was already speechless. After listening to the commentary just now, Inselton asked: "Mr. Dracula, if the'unintentional' really does this... No one can do it! Who can survive this kind of loss of everything? If one is really alive, one has no heart, no feeling, no care, or even a heart that wants to become stronger. The person... that person... that person is simply...!!!"

"The walking dead." Dracula snapped his fingers. "It's not an exaggeration."

After saying this, Deku stretched his hand and patted Dai Lao's shoulder again. A smile reappeared on his skull-like mouth: "So don't worry. The so-called unintentional martial arts is just a legend. Generally vague things. It's just that the predecessors inferred based on the inference that since there is a'character martial skill', there should be a'character martial skill'. No one has really seen Wuxin Wu, even those legends It’s unclear whether the character of "Wang Wuxin" is really the unintentional person, or a fabricated by later generations. You need to know Master Goodsay, except for the illusory "Wuxin", your "king" martial arts is the real best Strong fighting!"

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The snow continued, intermittently, but did not stop.

The windy winter in Shacheng comes late, but once it comes, the severe cold will still make people in the city wrap up in thick coats.

The white crystals descending from the gray sky gradually covered the stag capital with a silver coat, and a thin layer of snow accumulated on the trees, eaves, and the ground.

This is very similar to the north, but there are some differences. Because in this city, snow does not seem to mean cold. On the contrary, students and teachers successively decorated the Royal Academy with various ribbons and banners, and people in the city were also smiling. Not for anything else, just for the holy eve of the coming January 1st.

The idiot still wears the shackles, and the clothes are still the old linen clothes. From summer to autumn, from autumn to winter, the suit on his body has never changed. He didn't have the money to buy new clothes, but on the other hand, he was accustomed to Senag's bitter coldness, and now the winter in the city is not so cold.

As time goes by, the atmosphere of the New Year is getting stronger and stronger. The school's vocal band has begun to rehearse the hymns to be chanted at the end of the year, and the clothes on the students have gradually become more and more luxurious. In the days when the festive atmosphere became more and more intense, the idiot finished sweeping the floor, looking at the students wrapped in warm clothes, and then at the clothes with bread in her arms...

Old and broken.

Maybe this bitter cold is nothing to an idiot, but for Little Bread, it still has the coldness that makes her pale and sleeps all day long.

The idiot put the broom in the storage box next to his dilapidated wooden house and held the bread tightly. He pulled up the bedding on the bed and wrapped himself and the little girl, listening to the soft sleep in his arms, staring at the falling snow outside the window in a daze.

The New Year will never have anything to do with him. If possible, he hopes that the winter that brings the New Year will never come.

The snow outside the window slowly fell, passing through the shabby tiles occasionally into the cabin. When the snowflake was about to fall, it landed on a weedy plant growing out of a crack in the floor...

The door opened.

"How is your work done."

It was Campa who opened the door, and it surprised the idiot to see the principal coming. Because he almost always put today's instructions in front of his house on weekdays, thinking about it, he hadn't seen the principal for two months.

The idiot got up from the edge of the bed and pulled away the blanket. With the sound of Gragra, he showed Campa the restraints on his hands and feet, indicating that he always took them to work.

Campa walked in, looking closely at the idiot's arms and feet. Now, the child can pull the handcuffs away without much effort and move freely, as if there is no additional force on the handcuffs.

Campa raised his head and glanced at the idiot. He approves in his heart, but still maintains a cruel expression on the surface.

"I ask you how the work is done."

The idiot pulled up the blanket, wrapped the bun again, and said faintly: "It's all done."

Campa let out a sneer. He touched his chin and said, "That's right. You really haven't had a lazy day at work in the past six months. I also asked the teachers that you can attend those classrooms as an observer and assistant every time. . How? Can you read some basic text now?"

The idiot lowered his head and thought for a moment. To be honest, his progress in reading and literacy is still a little bit worse. Since Quelin ran away, none of the teachers behind was willing to teach him well. Some teachers even kicked him out of the classroom the moment he saw him. He was able to study on his own through some of the children's literacy books that Quilin gave him, but the progress was slow after all. As for the complicated and messy words in his mind, he did not understand most of them.

Campa looked at the idiot and had a rough estimate of the situation. Regarding this, he pondered for a while, and said: "Forget it, you are just a rubbish. I don't expect you to finish learning these decent things in half a year. I will continue next spring. Worry. But otherwise..."

Campa looked around the dilapidated cabin, which was lifeless and cold, without any festive atmosphere. He snorted and continued: "Idiot, do you know what day it will be in three days?"

"... December 31, 1180, Holy Eve Festival."