South, East.

In a simple courtyard, there were two people standing side by side, a middle-aged Confucian scholar and a young warrior.

"Those who are capable of caring for the people and helping the world."

Middle-aged Confucian scholar Zhang An smiled and said, "In this life, my father can only be a mediocre person who studies hard. He has a heart for the world and cares about the people, and can only be said with his mouth. If he is serious, he shouldn't have said it from me, mediocre person. The reason why he said it here with shamelessness is because my father wants to tell you that you are different from your father, and you can choose your next path."

After saying that, Zhang An turned around and tiptoed hard, and reached out and rubbed the head of the young warrior in front of him with awkwardness.

Zhang An's movements were a bit awkward. Zhang An used to do this. It shouldn't be so awkward. Maybe it was because his son grew taller and he pulled himself closer to his head.

Zhang Buhuo lowered his head and cooperated with his father's movements, saying, "Dad, I want to practice guns. Although I know Dad, you want me to study, and you will be a scholar who will help the world in the future."

After hearing this, Zhang An stopped his movements and smiled, "Didn't Dad just say that you are different from Dad, you can choose your next path. Besides, studying may not be good, Dad has been studying for a lifetime, and he is not a nerd who is a hard-working book. And who says that the only one who can help the world is a scholar, and the best one can help the world. This great person is talking about ability."

"What's more, if your father really doesn't agree with you practicing martial arts, how could he cut a wooden gun for you when you were ten years old when you said you wanted to practice a gun? Dad remember that in order to cut this wooden gun, Daddy's hands had several blood blisters. Dad still remember that when you told Dad about this, you were afraid that Dad would disagree with the timid look. Later, he cut a wooden gun for you, and you were happy for a long time."

Zhang Buhuo was stunned. Before he could remember, his father began to teach him to read and read. Many years ago, he could often see such a picture. A scholar in the Confucian shirt was lying leisurely on a recliner, holding a book in his hand, and not reading it. He closed his eyes slightly and recited the Bibles word by word. On the small stool next to him, a child sat. Whenever the scholar in the Confucian shirt read a sentence, the child immediately recited it loudly. Every three or five sentences, his little hand reached to the tray containing tea and fruit next to him, picked up a juicy fruit and ate it carefully, and moistened his dry throat after reading.

Until he was ten years old, Zhang Buhuo told his father that he wanted to practice martial arts. He never seemed to have seen this picture again. In the yard, only Zhang An was left on the recliner, reciting the Bibles.

For eight years, although Zhang An never said he had supported Zhang Buhuo's martial arts practice, he asked Zhang Buhuo to teach his marksmanship, quietly satisfying all Zhang Buhuo's needs for martial arts. Perhaps he was devoted to martial arts practice, but Zhang Buhuo did not discover that his father, who was fond of books, did not add any new books in the library, and even fewer books were often added. In the past, there were no more fruits on the tray where tea and fresh seasonal fruits were placed next to the recliner chair.

Zhang Buhuo said solemnly, "Dad, I can practice the gun well."

Zhang An is also Zheng’s key point, “Dad believes in you.”

Many years ago, a scholar also made up his mind to read books for the rest of his life. He did it, but he did not do it well. Looking back, perhaps when he made a vow, he should have made a vow like his son, instead of just being a lifetime. However, for a scholar, it should be satisfied that he could read books for the rest of his life.

"Not confused, can you let your father see you use a gun?" Zhang An said with a smile.

"Yes." Zhang Buhuo walked back to the house and took out the gun rod, carefully wiped the gun head with white cloth, then slowly installed it on the gun rod, and came to the open space in the yard, and performed one move at a time.

Each movement of Zhang Buhuo's gun was explained very clearly, pricking, pricking, slapping, slamming, entangling, blocking, holding, sprinting, tapping, and plucking. Each move was calm and powerful, but it was not too hurrying or slow, enough for Zhang An to take it all into his eyes.

Zhang Buhuo's gun is very simple, without too gorgeous moves. All you can see is that there is only a young warrior in the open space, steadily swinging the gun in his hand. The simple moves look really nothing outstanding. If you have to evaluate it, then the pistol technique may only be stable. You can barely praise the person who makes the gun's foundation solid.

But obviously this is just the view of an outsider. If there are martial arts masters watching from the side, they may be silent.

The advancedness of the marksmanship is evaluated by the effect of killing enemies. When you really hold a gun and fight with someone, life and death are often only between one shot, while Zhang Buhuo's gun and gun are all like this.

Killing the enemy is enough, but why do you need to be fancy?

This is a certain understanding of gun technique. From the simplification of the complexity, it seems to be a simple shot, and only takes the head level without any unnecessary movements. The guns and guns all go to kill the enemy. When fighting, they are enough to make people stand upside down.

Practicing martial arts is nothing more than a process of changing from simplicity to traditional, and then returning to the simple and return to the essence.

Zhang Buhuo's teacher is Yu Yi, a famous master of gunshots in the world. In his early years, he picked up a gun in his hand. Because he had an old age with Zhang An in his early years, he was entrusted by Zhang Anzhi to teach Zhang Buhuo's gun technique.

Yu Yi's life was undefeated, which led to his gaze being higher than his top. He once threatened that no one in the world could inherit his spear skills. During the invitation, Zhang An refused many times, but later, he did not persuade him many times. He thought of his descendants, so he reluctantly agreed to give some advice, but he said that he would never accept disciples.

However, when Yu Yi started to teach Zhang Buhuo, he was surprised to find that Zhang Buhuo's talent in shooting skills was so mysterious. Such greatness made him feel excited to accept disciples. Unfortunately, he had been swearing that he would never accept disciples. He could only see the great seedlings around him and could not be included in the sect.

No wonder Yu Yi. Who would have thought that an old sour scholar who only knew how to study could have such a talented gun technique. He was ten years old and then only nineteen years old. Zhang Buhuo, who had been playing guns for a lifetime, could face Yu Yi, a master of guns who had been playing guns for a lifetime, and could not defeat or even be slightly better. During this period, Yu Yi was inseparable from his fullest. It was a good thing that Yu Yi was better than Yu Lan. Yu Yi was relieved and could only regret it. He even had the intention of stabbing himself twice. Why didn't he look at Miaozi first and then say that he would never accept disciples?

Of course, Yu Yi would definitely not tell Zhang An about these things, otherwise he would have to be ridiculed by Zhang An, and he would have been utterly rude and persuaded him to teach him.

After a long time, Zhang Buhuo put away his gun, pondered for a moment, and said, "Dad, I want to go out and hone my martial arts."

"I have been practicing guns all the time, and the only practical battle is that the teacher will feed me tricks. If I practice so hard, I will end up with a frog in the well."

Calculately, Zhang Buhuo has never fought with other warriors except his teacher Yu Yi since he practiced the gun. Zhang Buhuo also asked why. Yu Yi's explanation is that what you have to do now is to lay a solid foundation and fight with others. It will be too late to talk about it in the future.

"I seem to have made no progress in my marksmanship this year, and I always feel that it is difficult to achieve perfection," Zhang Buhu frowned. "Maybe as the old saying goes, you need to be tempered in actual combat to improve."

"I have been thinking hard for a long time and practiced guns. The ultimate goal is not to win in the fight. If I don't fight, how can I understand the real gun?"

"Practicing guns and practicing guns is to make you familiar with guns. To truly master guns, the worst thing is to fight against warriors in the world. Although the teacher has been feeding me tricks over the years, feeding tricks are always just feeding tricks. No matter how much you feed, you are always familiar with guns."

"It is impossible for the teacher to kill him, and I cannot completely kill him. The gun that comes out like this is indeed a shortcoming thing."

While Zhang Buhuo spoke, he waved a gun flower casually, and he could see that his sharpness was revealed, but there was no blood. It was a white blade.

Zhang An looked at Zhang Buhuo and after a long time, he spoke slowly, "Although my father doesn't know how to practice martial arts, he read thousands of books and traveled thousands of miles. I guess the same is true for practicing martial arts. Moreover, in the year of dancing, before the crown, it is always a good thing to go out for a walk and see the world."

"As a warrior, it is normal to fight with others. My father understands and expects this day. But as a son, my father hopes that you can take good care of yourself."

After Zhang An finished speaking, Zhang Buhuo was silent, as if he understood a little why his father didn't want to practice martial arts by himself before.

Yes, if you want to go far in martial arts, you can't avoid fighting with others. If you have no eyes, who can predict what will happen? I thought that my father didn't read a good book, so he wanted to study hard and fulfill his wish. Although I didn't read it well, I gave birth to a son who had studied well. Now it seems that it's really outrageous that I was wrong like this. What did I think before? Zhang Buhuo was guilty and guilty.

"Go, go and say something to your teacher and say hello to him by the way. I haven't seen him for many days." Zhang An waved his hand and smiled.

The middle-aged Confucian scholar seemed to have understood what his son was thinking, but he did not rush to explain. He thought that since what he did was to be good to his son, his son could naturally feel it. If he could not feel it, it only means that his father was not doing well enough.

Zhang Buhuo pursed his lips, and by rolling up the spear head and rod with white cloth, he suppressed the complicated emotions in his heart, calmed down his mood, and said, "Teacher's gun is not as good as mine now."

Zhang An couldn't help but be happy when he remembered his old friend's face, "Don't look at him always having a face, he is actually happy."

"Okay, I'll go here. I've been at home these days and I haven't seen the teacher for many days. I'll go here."

Zhang Buhuo rolled up the gun head and the barrel and put it in place, and smiled, "He probably missed me very much, and he was worried about me."
Chapter completed!