Chapter 6 Chapter Five: Pedro the Bullkiller
The majestic body of the black bull stands quietly on the sandy soil.A pair of hard horns bent upwards, sharp as a sword under the scorching sun.
The rippling red is reflected in the bright bull's eyes.
The healthy hooves flew fast.The thick tail waved violently.
The body weighing more than 800 pounds passed through the pink cloth at an astonishing speed.
When Kang Zhefu entered the open-air seating, the bullfighting performance had already entered the middle.In the center of the circular bullring, gathering the attention of thousands of spectators is already the third bull today. The "Plaza de Toros Monumental de las Ventas" (Plaza de Toros Monumental de las Ventas), which is divided into three floors, has more than 22,000 spectator seats.This building located in the northeast of Madrid is the largest bullring in Spain. It also has a "bullfighting museum" that introduces the history of bullfighting and displays various cultures related to bullfighting. Today happened to be the San Isilo Festival on May 15th, and the 23 consecutive bullfighting performances kicked off. Kang Zhefu felt that the heat was coming, so he took off his cotton and linen suit jacket, revealing the light green short-sleeved shirt inside.This set of casual clothes was chosen for him by Tilia when he was in Hong Kong. "Throw away this gray suit." She said suddenly that day, "It's no different from armor." Kang Zhefu felt his lips were very dry.Located in central Spain, Madrid is the highest capital in Europe (2,000 meters above sea level).Typical plateau continental climate. After the three assistant matadors challenged the bull with pink scarves, the performance entered the second stage. The Spurs, wearing white round caps, rode out on heavily armored horses. The spurs turned the horse and immediately attracted a huge black bull.The spurs held the spear tightly in their hands, and took advantage of the approaching force of the raging bull to stab it in the back. The black bull with the blood on its back crashed into the vest, making a heavy crash. Twenty-two thousand spectators burst into exclamation. ——"Why do people always like to see bloodshed?" Kang Zhefu sighed silently, and put on a pair of square sunglasses. More blood flowed. After the spurs rode away, it was the turn of three assistant matadors in gold-embroidered clothes to show their skills.Each of them held a pair of short spears decorated with snow-white paper flowers, and they took turns to stab the six short spears to the back of the angry bull in an elegant posture. The blood of the cow dyed the paper flowers bright red, and then poured into the belly of the cow.The black body of the cow ignited a flame of pain. Although the distance is far, Kang Zhefu seems to clearly see the grief and anger in Niu's eyes. The surrounding audience, already in a state of drunken excitement, took out their handkerchiefs and waved them in the air, admiring this exceptionally brave animal. "Pedro! Pedro!" The neat shouts are mixed with the fast-paced "Espana Cani" bullfight melody. "Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!" The music suddenly changed to a loud trumpet.A tall and strong figure stepped out from the gate of the corridor beside the bullring. "Pedro!" The bull's last opponent appeared: a tall and strong body covered with the same black battle clothes as the bull's body, and the broad shoulders were decorated with golden armor.Her long black hair was braided behind her back, and she was not wearing the traditional bullfighting cap.There is a hint of elegance like a dance in the steps you take. More than 20,000 handkerchiefs surged like waves. The bullfighter puts a scarlet cloth scarf on his left arm, and the silver light is faintly shining under the cloth.He stopped more than ten meters in front of the black bull, bowed slowly to it, and behaved like a young Spanish nobleman in the seventeenth century. "Pedro!" A tall Spanish girl with a bronze complexion ran to the sideboard.The full breasts under the low-necked shirt bounced up and down as he ran. She throws a bright red rose. The matador's fair and handsome face moved, and his beautifully shaped thin lips showed a charming smile.He stretched out his right hand to take the rose in the air. The bullfighter holds the rose with his fingers, puts it in front of his stomach, and then bows to the audience around him. "Allow me to dedicate the death of this heroic bull to all the beautiful ladies here." The matador's voice was like music. "Oh." Beside Kang Zhefu, a tall, model-like beauty sighed in despair. "Pedro, I would die for you!" Kang Zhefu smiled wryly. ——This kid... The matador faced the bull again, and the tenderness in his eyes suddenly disappeared.He took the rose in his mouth. "Come on. Only the true brave deserve to die at the edge of my sword." He put the scarlet cloth hanging on the short stick by his side and swayed it slowly. dusty.At the moment when the bull's body rushed towards him, the matador bent back beautifully, turned around, and the sharp horns flashed by in a split second. A few drops of bull's blood splashed on the matador's black clothes. Although it was not the first time to watch a bullfight, Kang Zhefu still couldn't help admiring the performance of the performers. The bulls sent to the bullring are not ordinary breeds, but purebred bullfighting bulls that have been specially bred by the ranch and have been kept for hundreds of years. They are born with such a strong physique and characteristics. This pit bull's instinct is to charge and attack anything that moves quickly.Bulls are actually color-blind, and matadors use red cloth just to enhance the look.Kang Zhefu had heard that there was a lost pit bull who suddenly rushed into a train passing in front of him and died. The matador performed several different dodging tricks in a few minutes, which attracted waves of exclamations from the audience. The bull with six short spears on its back showed no sign of fatigue.Kang Zhefu heard some audience beside him start whispering worryingly, praising the unprecedented tenacity of this bull. "What a respectable opponent." The matador smiled and stared at the enemy less than ten feet away. "It's time to end." He stretched his right palm behind the red cloth and drew out the long sword hidden in the cloth. The straight, long and narrow sword edge shone with silver light.The cross-shaped tsuba is decorated with an emerald.There is a semi-circular handguard next to the hilt wrapped in black leather strips, with detailed engravings carved on it.This is a rare top notch that ordinary matadors would never use. After the silver-white sword edge flashed, the audience immediately held their breath. The tip of the horn trembled slightly. The matador's feet stand together in a T-shape, his waist is gracefully leaned back, his right palm holds up the hilt of his sword, and the tip of his sword slantly points down between the bull's eyes. Still holding the lips of the rose. The red cloth scarf, which is as bright as the color of the flower, swayed slowly, like a sea of blood in the waves. The hooves of the cow leaped to the sound of the horn. In a second, the bull's horn fiercely pierced through the red cloth in the void. Rose petals scattered like drops of blood. The strong four legs of the bull fell instantly, and its 800-pound body collapsed behind the matador. The hilt of the sword that has been detached from the matador's right hand points straight to the sky.The straight edge of the sword plunged into the three-inch gap between the shoulder blades on both sides of the bull's back without missing a hair, piercing the strong heart. The healthy bull is still breathing, and the bull's head is struggling and shaking feebly. The bullfighter closed his eyes, a look of sadness appeared on his handsome face. He stretched out his right hand wordlessly.The assistant bullfighter in gold puts a cross-shaped dagger into his hand. The matador threw away the red cloth scarf, and slowly walked towards the dying black bull with a dagger in hand. The matador inserted the sharp point of the dagger into the bottom of the bull's skull with a beautiful posture like an ancient nobleman playing chess, and quickly ended its pain. Benevolence in cruelty.
Kang Zhefu had to admit that Pedro Dacqui Gabio sitting in front of him was indeed a rare handsome man in the world. Dagui has been hailed as the greatest bullfighting star in Spain in the past century, and the media even gave him a glorious nickname: "Pedro the Reborn". Pedro Romero is the father of modern bullfighting in Spain. According to records, he killed more than 5,600 bulls between 1771 and 1799 without being injured. He is a legend The invincible brave. Dagui was wearing a classic-style linen collarless open shirt, holding a crystal glass filled with wine, and walked to the small balcony by the window.His six-foot-four-inch body was taller than Kang Zhefu, and his figure was a little thinner. From the window, you can overlook the scene in the bullring.The killing is still going on. Each bullfight has six bulls on the field, each of which is slaughtered by three matadors.Among them, the first and third bulls are stipulated to be the most famous bullfighter among the three on that day. "Kang, I know you don't appreciate bullfighting very much." Kang Zhefu drank half a glass of ice water, heaved a sigh of relief, and put the glass back on the small round table in front of him. "Not as annoying as Takahashi. He described it as 'random killing'." Dakui took a sip of the cold wine and pointed to the bullring outside the window. "No. The bulls on the field are of carefully selected bloodlines. They are born with noble, brave, and proud natures. They are born to compete with us in the field. It is not the same as other people's cattle There is no difference in food." Kang Zhefu was silent, and took out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Unfortunately..." Dakui drank the wine in his glass in one gulp. "After hundreds of years of pure bloodlines, today's fighting bulls are much weaker than their ancestors. I really envy Romero, he has fought against the real toughest bulls." Dagui put the empty wine glass on the window sill, and looked back with a charming smile that the ladies couldn't resist. "How long has it been since we met? Three years? Your taste in clothes has improved." Kang Zhefu caressed the light green shirt on his body. "I didn't pick it myself." "Is it a woman?" Da Kui stroked his chin, looking at Kang Zhefu's clothes. "The color matching is very good. She is a very emotional girl, and she is very beautiful..." "Here we go again." Kang Zhefu smiled wryly. "There is no need to prove it. Who doesn't know Your Excellency's rich knowledge on women and swords?" "Sword..." Dakui aimed at a long cloth pouch placed horizontally on the small round table. "Can you open it so I can see it?" "I brought it just to show you." Dakui couldn't wait to take the cloth bag and untie it. "Is it a Japanese sword?" He pulled out the strangely shaped blade. "No. It seems not." "I asked Takahashi to build it." Kang Zhefu then briefly explained the origin of the sword, but kept Chen Changde's identity away. Dagui was not just a star in the bullring.Thirty years old this year, he has developed a strong interest in Western fencing skills since he was a child. He has achieved excellent results in the "epee" and "saber" of modern fencing competitions in his youth, and he is regarded as the future Olympic Games A good swordsman. But just like Takahashi Ryuichiro, Dakui, who has the blood of a real "knight" in his body, is not satisfied with the modernized fencing that has been sported, and turns to delve into classical sword skills. Among them, he specializes in the ancient Spanish swordsmanship that has been handed down since the seventeenth century: this swordsmanship called "Dance of Death" inherits the fierce actual combat skills of the Middle Ages and combines traditional Spanish gorgeous dances. Elegant Dynamic Room.Dakui's unusually beautiful dodging movements during bullfighting are also comprehended from it. Since much of the ancient fencing techniques in Europe have been lost, Dakui conducted in-depth research on short weapons such as European swords and knives since the Middle Ages, as well as the armor systems of medieval knights, hoping to reconstruct other styles based on the shape design of ancient swords. Application methods and unique tricks. For these arduous studies, Dakui even gave up the opportunity to study in a first-class university. As a result, although he later achieved outstanding research achievements, he was not recognized by the academic circle because of his lack of academic qualifications, and his submitted papers were never valued. Kang Zhefu looked at Da Kui who was carefully observing the shape of the blade. "How about it, are you sure you can restore its usage?" Dakui held the sword with both hands, swung it several times, then changed to holding the sword with one hand, and made several stabbing movements. "Surely it weighs the same as the real one?" "Of course we can't be 100% sure, but the gap won't be too far." "No." Da Kui stroked a section near the hilt of the sword. "The curvature here should be increased, and the width should also be expanded by about two centimeters. Only in this way can the power be more fully focused on the front edge of the blade." "Is there a problem? I can cast another handle." "Don't waste time. I can fix it. No problem?" Kang Zhefu shook his head. "It's not physical evidence anyway." Da Kui looked at the photo that Kang Zhefu put on the round table. "Although the sword moves are powerful and fast, there is nothing special about the moves themselves." "I thought so too at first." Kang Zhefu took a sip of ice water and continued, "But what if the murderer drew his sword behind the dead?" "What?" Dakui stared. "impossible?" "According to my guess, this is true." "No..." Dakui twisted his wrist, pointed the tip of the sword at himself in the opposite direction, and gestured gently. "Impossible, unless the blade is half as short as this..." "The error in the length of the blade will not exceed three centimeters." Dakui shook his head and sighed. "That's really an unprecedented move... There's no such thing as Chinese swordsmanship, right?" "Not as far as I know." The two were silent for a while. "Leave it here with me for now," Daqui said. "Give me some time. I'm confident I'll find out." "I have faith in you too." Two men who lived by swords in different worlds looked at each other knowingly and smiled. "But..." Dakui put away his smile. "I do this work for you on condition." Kang Zhefu closed his eyes. "Pedro, forget it..." "No!" Dakui stood in a T-shape with his feet, curled his left hand to his ear, grasped the sword with his right and moved forward, facing Kang Zhefu in a Western sword fighting posture. "After I restore that reverse-slashing sword move, you have to compete with me once—using your Chinese swordsmanship." Kang Zhefu sat on the chair in silence. "Fourteen years...have we known each other for fourteen years?" Dakui lowered his sword and turned to look out the window. "New York. For a name—Teacher Gu Feng, I traveled to that strange city on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. In Teacher Gu's swordsmanship gym, we met for the first time..." "It was a long time ago." Kang Zhefu still closed his eyes and said. Daqui nodded. "But until now, I often see Teacher Gu's sword light in my sleep. The image fourteen years ago shocked my soul...For many years, I have always dreamed of competing with him. Unfortunately, I know that even if Today, there is still a distance between me and him. It is a distance that can never be brought closer." "Your sword skills are still improving." Daqui sighed. "But when my strength reaches the level where I can compete with Mr. Gu, he may no longer be alive..." He swung his sword at Kang Zhefu. "Only you! You are the only one in the world who can fulfill my wish! Draw the sword instead of Mr. Gu." Kang Zhefu opened his eyes and stood up. "I am no longer qualified to compete with you." Kang Zhefu looked down at his hands. "I have lost the honor of being a swordsman. These hands will only stain the sword." "A sword is not dirty or clean at all." Dakui's handsome face showed arrogance. "There is only the difference between the sword of victory and the sword of failure." "It's just your Westerners' opinion." Kang Zhefu picked up the cotton and linen coat hanging on the back of the chair, turned and walked. "Anyway..." Kang Zhefu said before leaving, "I still hope you can help me find the owner of that sword."
A man walks to a payphone stand in the departure hall of Madrid's Mahas Airport.He is about five feet six inches tall and thin, but he wears a long raincoat that is only common on the streets of London, which does not match the enthusiasm of southern Europe. The man picked up the microphone and dropped a coin. "I've arrived in Madrid." The man's English had a strange accent. "Very good." An old male voice came from the other end of the phone, "Your tools have been placed at the designated place, go and get them." "When do I need to use it?" The man's empty right fist clenched loudly. "After five days, we will decide whether we need it or not. On the 20th, at 11 pm Madrid time, call again." The old man's voice carried invisible majesty. "I think it's better to do it quickly." The man's tone revealed a fierce air. "It's not the first one anyway." "Unless necessary, try to avoid alerting the 'power' behind that person. It's not time to declare war yet." "How much does he know?" "No more, no less. The point is, he doesn't know our existence yet. As long as he doesn't know this, you don't need to do anything. We might convince him." "Can we detect it in time?" The man licked his lips. "'She' will tell me," said the old man on the phone. "Don't ask any more. Get ready for these five days. Don't drink. That man used to be a soldier." "Don't you trust me?" There was a contemptuous anger in the man's eyes. "That person's cultivation days are no shorter than yours." The man hung up the phone angrily. Just as the man turned to leave, a Spanish teenager waiting behind him just tied up the loose shoelaces and stood up facing him. Seeing that he was about to meet the man face to face, the boy let out a soft cry. The man disappeared in front of him in an instant. The boy was stunned, but there was a scolding sound like gnashing of teeth: "Be careful!" "I'm sorry!" The boy apologized in Spanish, and stared blankly at the vigorous back of the man with his long clothes fluttering away. The young man deeply remembered the fierce look in the man's eyes at the moment when they almost met head-on.
When Kang Zhefu entered the open-air seating, the bullfighting performance had already entered the middle.In the center of the circular bullring, gathering the attention of thousands of spectators is already the third bull today. The "Plaza de Toros Monumental de las Ventas" (Plaza de Toros Monumental de las Ventas), which is divided into three floors, has more than 22,000 spectator seats.This building located in the northeast of Madrid is the largest bullring in Spain. It also has a "bullfighting museum" that introduces the history of bullfighting and displays various cultures related to bullfighting. Today happened to be the San Isilo Festival on May 15th, and the 23 consecutive bullfighting performances kicked off. Kang Zhefu felt that the heat was coming, so he took off his cotton and linen suit jacket, revealing the light green short-sleeved shirt inside.This set of casual clothes was chosen for him by Tilia when he was in Hong Kong. "Throw away this gray suit." She said suddenly that day, "It's no different from armor." Kang Zhefu felt his lips were very dry.Located in central Spain, Madrid is the highest capital in Europe (2,000 meters above sea level).Typical plateau continental climate. After the three assistant matadors challenged the bull with pink scarves, the performance entered the second stage. The Spurs, wearing white round caps, rode out on heavily armored horses. The spurs turned the horse and immediately attracted a huge black bull.The spurs held the spear tightly in their hands, and took advantage of the approaching force of the raging bull to stab it in the back. The black bull with the blood on its back crashed into the vest, making a heavy crash. Twenty-two thousand spectators burst into exclamation. ——"Why do people always like to see bloodshed?" Kang Zhefu sighed silently, and put on a pair of square sunglasses. More blood flowed. After the spurs rode away, it was the turn of three assistant matadors in gold-embroidered clothes to show their skills.Each of them held a pair of short spears decorated with snow-white paper flowers, and they took turns to stab the six short spears to the back of the angry bull in an elegant posture. The blood of the cow dyed the paper flowers bright red, and then poured into the belly of the cow.The black body of the cow ignited a flame of pain. Although the distance is far, Kang Zhefu seems to clearly see the grief and anger in Niu's eyes. The surrounding audience, already in a state of drunken excitement, took out their handkerchiefs and waved them in the air, admiring this exceptionally brave animal. "Pedro! Pedro!" The neat shouts are mixed with the fast-paced "Espana Cani" bullfight melody. "Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!" The music suddenly changed to a loud trumpet.A tall and strong figure stepped out from the gate of the corridor beside the bullring. "Pedro!" The bull's last opponent appeared: a tall and strong body covered with the same black battle clothes as the bull's body, and the broad shoulders were decorated with golden armor.Her long black hair was braided behind her back, and she was not wearing the traditional bullfighting cap.There is a hint of elegance like a dance in the steps you take. More than 20,000 handkerchiefs surged like waves. The bullfighter puts a scarlet cloth scarf on his left arm, and the silver light is faintly shining under the cloth.He stopped more than ten meters in front of the black bull, bowed slowly to it, and behaved like a young Spanish nobleman in the seventeenth century. "Pedro!" A tall Spanish girl with a bronze complexion ran to the sideboard.The full breasts under the low-necked shirt bounced up and down as he ran. She throws a bright red rose. The matador's fair and handsome face moved, and his beautifully shaped thin lips showed a charming smile.He stretched out his right hand to take the rose in the air. The bullfighter holds the rose with his fingers, puts it in front of his stomach, and then bows to the audience around him. "Allow me to dedicate the death of this heroic bull to all the beautiful ladies here." The matador's voice was like music. "Oh." Beside Kang Zhefu, a tall, model-like beauty sighed in despair. "Pedro, I would die for you!" Kang Zhefu smiled wryly. ——This kid... The matador faced the bull again, and the tenderness in his eyes suddenly disappeared.He took the rose in his mouth. "Come on. Only the true brave deserve to die at the edge of my sword." He put the scarlet cloth hanging on the short stick by his side and swayed it slowly. dusty.At the moment when the bull's body rushed towards him, the matador bent back beautifully, turned around, and the sharp horns flashed by in a split second. A few drops of bull's blood splashed on the matador's black clothes. Although it was not the first time to watch a bullfight, Kang Zhefu still couldn't help admiring the performance of the performers. The bulls sent to the bullring are not ordinary breeds, but purebred bullfighting bulls that have been specially bred by the ranch and have been kept for hundreds of years. They are born with such a strong physique and characteristics. This pit bull's instinct is to charge and attack anything that moves quickly.Bulls are actually color-blind, and matadors use red cloth just to enhance the look.Kang Zhefu had heard that there was a lost pit bull who suddenly rushed into a train passing in front of him and died. The matador performed several different dodging tricks in a few minutes, which attracted waves of exclamations from the audience. The bull with six short spears on its back showed no sign of fatigue.Kang Zhefu heard some audience beside him start whispering worryingly, praising the unprecedented tenacity of this bull. "What a respectable opponent." The matador smiled and stared at the enemy less than ten feet away. "It's time to end." He stretched his right palm behind the red cloth and drew out the long sword hidden in the cloth. The straight, long and narrow sword edge shone with silver light.The cross-shaped tsuba is decorated with an emerald.There is a semi-circular handguard next to the hilt wrapped in black leather strips, with detailed engravings carved on it.This is a rare top notch that ordinary matadors would never use. After the silver-white sword edge flashed, the audience immediately held their breath. The tip of the horn trembled slightly. The matador's feet stand together in a T-shape, his waist is gracefully leaned back, his right palm holds up the hilt of his sword, and the tip of his sword slantly points down between the bull's eyes. Still holding the lips of the rose. The red cloth scarf, which is as bright as the color of the flower, swayed slowly, like a sea of blood in the waves. The hooves of the cow leaped to the sound of the horn. In a second, the bull's horn fiercely pierced through the red cloth in the void. Rose petals scattered like drops of blood. The strong four legs of the bull fell instantly, and its 800-pound body collapsed behind the matador. The hilt of the sword that has been detached from the matador's right hand points straight to the sky.The straight edge of the sword plunged into the three-inch gap between the shoulder blades on both sides of the bull's back without missing a hair, piercing the strong heart. The healthy bull is still breathing, and the bull's head is struggling and shaking feebly. The bullfighter closed his eyes, a look of sadness appeared on his handsome face. He stretched out his right hand wordlessly.The assistant bullfighter in gold puts a cross-shaped dagger into his hand. The matador threw away the red cloth scarf, and slowly walked towards the dying black bull with a dagger in hand. The matador inserted the sharp point of the dagger into the bottom of the bull's skull with a beautiful posture like an ancient nobleman playing chess, and quickly ended its pain. Benevolence in cruelty.
Kang Zhefu had to admit that Pedro Dacqui Gabio sitting in front of him was indeed a rare handsome man in the world. Dagui has been hailed as the greatest bullfighting star in Spain in the past century, and the media even gave him a glorious nickname: "Pedro the Reborn". Pedro Romero is the father of modern bullfighting in Spain. According to records, he killed more than 5,600 bulls between 1771 and 1799 without being injured. He is a legend The invincible brave. Dagui was wearing a classic-style linen collarless open shirt, holding a crystal glass filled with wine, and walked to the small balcony by the window.His six-foot-four-inch body was taller than Kang Zhefu, and his figure was a little thinner. From the window, you can overlook the scene in the bullring.The killing is still going on. Each bullfight has six bulls on the field, each of which is slaughtered by three matadors.Among them, the first and third bulls are stipulated to be the most famous bullfighter among the three on that day. "Kang, I know you don't appreciate bullfighting very much." Kang Zhefu drank half a glass of ice water, heaved a sigh of relief, and put the glass back on the small round table in front of him. "Not as annoying as Takahashi. He described it as 'random killing'." Dakui took a sip of the cold wine and pointed to the bullring outside the window. "No. The bulls on the field are of carefully selected bloodlines. They are born with noble, brave, and proud natures. They are born to compete with us in the field. It is not the same as other people's cattle There is no difference in food." Kang Zhefu was silent, and took out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Unfortunately..." Dakui drank the wine in his glass in one gulp. "After hundreds of years of pure bloodlines, today's fighting bulls are much weaker than their ancestors. I really envy Romero, he has fought against the real toughest bulls." Dagui put the empty wine glass on the window sill, and looked back with a charming smile that the ladies couldn't resist. "How long has it been since we met? Three years? Your taste in clothes has improved." Kang Zhefu caressed the light green shirt on his body. "I didn't pick it myself." "Is it a woman?" Da Kui stroked his chin, looking at Kang Zhefu's clothes. "The color matching is very good. She is a very emotional girl, and she is very beautiful..." "Here we go again." Kang Zhefu smiled wryly. "There is no need to prove it. Who doesn't know Your Excellency's rich knowledge on women and swords?" "Sword..." Dakui aimed at a long cloth pouch placed horizontally on the small round table. "Can you open it so I can see it?" "I brought it just to show you." Dakui couldn't wait to take the cloth bag and untie it. "Is it a Japanese sword?" He pulled out the strangely shaped blade. "No. It seems not." "I asked Takahashi to build it." Kang Zhefu then briefly explained the origin of the sword, but kept Chen Changde's identity away. Dagui was not just a star in the bullring.Thirty years old this year, he has developed a strong interest in Western fencing skills since he was a child. He has achieved excellent results in the "epee" and "saber" of modern fencing competitions in his youth, and he is regarded as the future Olympic Games A good swordsman. But just like Takahashi Ryuichiro, Dakui, who has the blood of a real "knight" in his body, is not satisfied with the modernized fencing that has been sported, and turns to delve into classical sword skills. Among them, he specializes in the ancient Spanish swordsmanship that has been handed down since the seventeenth century: this swordsmanship called "Dance of Death" inherits the fierce actual combat skills of the Middle Ages and combines traditional Spanish gorgeous dances. Elegant Dynamic Room.Dakui's unusually beautiful dodging movements during bullfighting are also comprehended from it. Since much of the ancient fencing techniques in Europe have been lost, Dakui conducted in-depth research on short weapons such as European swords and knives since the Middle Ages, as well as the armor systems of medieval knights, hoping to reconstruct other styles based on the shape design of ancient swords. Application methods and unique tricks. For these arduous studies, Dakui even gave up the opportunity to study in a first-class university. As a result, although he later achieved outstanding research achievements, he was not recognized by the academic circle because of his lack of academic qualifications, and his submitted papers were never valued. Kang Zhefu looked at Da Kui who was carefully observing the shape of the blade. "How about it, are you sure you can restore its usage?" Dakui held the sword with both hands, swung it several times, then changed to holding the sword with one hand, and made several stabbing movements. "Surely it weighs the same as the real one?" "Of course we can't be 100% sure, but the gap won't be too far." "No." Da Kui stroked a section near the hilt of the sword. "The curvature here should be increased, and the width should also be expanded by about two centimeters. Only in this way can the power be more fully focused on the front edge of the blade." "Is there a problem? I can cast another handle." "Don't waste time. I can fix it. No problem?" Kang Zhefu shook his head. "It's not physical evidence anyway." Da Kui looked at the photo that Kang Zhefu put on the round table. "Although the sword moves are powerful and fast, there is nothing special about the moves themselves." "I thought so too at first." Kang Zhefu took a sip of ice water and continued, "But what if the murderer drew his sword behind the dead?" "What?" Dakui stared. "impossible?" "According to my guess, this is true." "No..." Dakui twisted his wrist, pointed the tip of the sword at himself in the opposite direction, and gestured gently. "Impossible, unless the blade is half as short as this..." "The error in the length of the blade will not exceed three centimeters." Dakui shook his head and sighed. "That's really an unprecedented move... There's no such thing as Chinese swordsmanship, right?" "Not as far as I know." The two were silent for a while. "Leave it here with me for now," Daqui said. "Give me some time. I'm confident I'll find out." "I have faith in you too." Two men who lived by swords in different worlds looked at each other knowingly and smiled. "But..." Dakui put away his smile. "I do this work for you on condition." Kang Zhefu closed his eyes. "Pedro, forget it..." "No!" Dakui stood in a T-shape with his feet, curled his left hand to his ear, grasped the sword with his right and moved forward, facing Kang Zhefu in a Western sword fighting posture. "After I restore that reverse-slashing sword move, you have to compete with me once—using your Chinese swordsmanship." Kang Zhefu sat on the chair in silence. "Fourteen years...have we known each other for fourteen years?" Dakui lowered his sword and turned to look out the window. "New York. For a name—Teacher Gu Feng, I traveled to that strange city on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. In Teacher Gu's swordsmanship gym, we met for the first time..." "It was a long time ago." Kang Zhefu still closed his eyes and said. Daqui nodded. "But until now, I often see Teacher Gu's sword light in my sleep. The image fourteen years ago shocked my soul...For many years, I have always dreamed of competing with him. Unfortunately, I know that even if Today, there is still a distance between me and him. It is a distance that can never be brought closer." "Your sword skills are still improving." Daqui sighed. "But when my strength reaches the level where I can compete with Mr. Gu, he may no longer be alive..." He swung his sword at Kang Zhefu. "Only you! You are the only one in the world who can fulfill my wish! Draw the sword instead of Mr. Gu." Kang Zhefu opened his eyes and stood up. "I am no longer qualified to compete with you." Kang Zhefu looked down at his hands. "I have lost the honor of being a swordsman. These hands will only stain the sword." "A sword is not dirty or clean at all." Dakui's handsome face showed arrogance. "There is only the difference between the sword of victory and the sword of failure." "It's just your Westerners' opinion." Kang Zhefu picked up the cotton and linen coat hanging on the back of the chair, turned and walked. "Anyway..." Kang Zhefu said before leaving, "I still hope you can help me find the owner of that sword."
A man walks to a payphone stand in the departure hall of Madrid's Mahas Airport.He is about five feet six inches tall and thin, but he wears a long raincoat that is only common on the streets of London, which does not match the enthusiasm of southern Europe. The man picked up the microphone and dropped a coin. "I've arrived in Madrid." The man's English had a strange accent. "Very good." An old male voice came from the other end of the phone, "Your tools have been placed at the designated place, go and get them." "When do I need to use it?" The man's empty right fist clenched loudly. "After five days, we will decide whether we need it or not. On the 20th, at 11 pm Madrid time, call again." The old man's voice carried invisible majesty. "I think it's better to do it quickly." The man's tone revealed a fierce air. "It's not the first one anyway." "Unless necessary, try to avoid alerting the 'power' behind that person. It's not time to declare war yet." "How much does he know?" "No more, no less. The point is, he doesn't know our existence yet. As long as he doesn't know this, you don't need to do anything. We might convince him." "Can we detect it in time?" The man licked his lips. "'She' will tell me," said the old man on the phone. "Don't ask any more. Get ready for these five days. Don't drink. That man used to be a soldier." "Don't you trust me?" There was a contemptuous anger in the man's eyes. "That person's cultivation days are no shorter than yours." The man hung up the phone angrily. Just as the man turned to leave, a Spanish teenager waiting behind him just tied up the loose shoelaces and stood up facing him. Seeing that he was about to meet the man face to face, the boy let out a soft cry. The man disappeared in front of him in an instant. The boy was stunned, but there was a scolding sound like gnashing of teeth: "Be careful!" "I'm sorry!" The boy apologized in Spanish, and stared blankly at the vigorous back of the man with his long clothes fluttering away. The young man deeply remembered the fierce look in the man's eyes at the moment when they almost met head-on.