Top-level Qi Luck: Leading My Clan to Cultivate Chapter 2131: 1091: Entertaining Thoughts of Retreat
Capítulo 2131: Chapter 1091: Entertaining Thoughts of Retreat
At this moment, although Song Chufeng had smoothly made it through the shockwaves, the confrontation had not yet ceased.
Because at that instant, though many of the curved red blades had shattered, that lotus flower surprisingly withstood all the attacks, and still hovered mid-air.
Seeing this scene, besides being shocked, Song Chufeng couldn’t believe it internally.
He was a genuine Nascent Soul Stage cultivator, and in this battle, he had used almost eighty to ninety percent of his strength.
Under such circumstances, many who had just entered the Nascent Soul Stage might have already been defeated.
However, over on Lin Tianming’s side, not only were there no signs of collapse, but he had not noticeably fallen behind in this battle.
At least, judging from the results of these few rounds of confrontation, Lin Tianming had no obvious disadvantage.
For a Golden Core Stage cultivator to achieve this, the difficulty is simply imaginable.
Precisely because of this, it was evident just how powerful Lin Tianming’s combat strength was.
On this point, Song Chufeng had to internally acknowledge that Lin Tianming’s true strength clearly surpassed the Blood Red Alliance’s Holy Son Situ Jian at the same level.
Despite not wanting to believe this evaluation, Song Chufeng ultimately affirmed this perception.
Understanding this point, at this moment, Song Chufeng no longer regarded Lin Tianming as just a Golden Core Stage cultivator, but instead viewed him as a Nascent Soul Stage expert and an extremely dangerous peer.
Therefore, when Song Chufeng once again looked towards Lin Tianming, his gaze was filled with intense dread.
Under his scrutiny, the opposing Lin Tianming remained under the protection of the Sword Shadow Lotus.
After that previous round of attack, Lin Tianming seemed unscathed, his expression remained calm, and his aura was quite stable.
Seeing this outcome, Song Chufeng was very clear that Lin Tianming truly withstood his attack head-on, one where eighty to ninety percent of his strength was utilized.
Such an attack, if the target were him, he feared it would be difficult to maintain composure like Lin Tianming.
Thus, Song Chufeng couldn’t help but think to himself, Lin Tianming’s strength is too terrifying.
Now, the time to continue dragging on has passed.
The next moment, if Lin Tianming were to unleash some other trump card, Song Chufeng might get injured or even perish here.
After all, Lin Tianming’s strength is apparent, and his endless array of techniques are extraordinarily powerful.
Besides, this is after all the bordering area between the Yuxu Country’s Cultivation World and the Yulan Cultivation World.
In such a place, the slightest exposure could attract Nascent Soul Stage cultivators from the Yulan Sect.
If the Great Elder Zhou Tianlong of the Yulan Sect personally intervened, it would be nothing short of a disaster for Song Chufeng.
Therefore, even though he is a Nascent Soul Stage expert, he couldn’t help but be apprehensive in such a sensitive area.
Moreover, Song Chufeng initially planned for a covert operation, not wanting to expose his intentions or whereabouts.
As the border between the two countries, this place is inherently bustling with people.
Here, prolonged engagement with such grandiose commotion would inevitably draw the attention of some cultivators.
Under these circumstances, from any angle, this battle cannot be dragged out for too long.
Understanding this point, Song Chufeng was determined.
To resolve the huge threat that the Lin Family posed to the Blood Red Alliance, to kill the terrifyingly powerful Lin Tianming, whose growth potential was astonishingly high.
Next, he must, at all costs, employ every means possible, striving to end the battle as quickly as possible.
With this in mind, Song Chufeng looked up at Lin Tianming.
Then, Song Chufeng pinched a Law Decree with his hand, striking spiritual light onto the Spiritual Treasure Long Sword in his hand.
In a matter of moments, the Spiritual Treasure Long Sword shone with a burst of red light.
Immediately after, Song Chufeng formed seals with both hands, making a complex hand gesture, while chanting a complicated spell incantation.
Soon, the long sword in Song Chufeng’s hand flew into the air, rapidly enlarging to a hundred feet long.
At this moment, looking around, the long sword became long and thick, enveloped in a blood-red glow, constantly exuding an astonishing blood aura.
At the same time, countless strands of Blade Qi flowed out from the long sword like smoke, swirling around it.
In the blink of an eye, the Blade Qi had densely populated, occupying a vast portion of the sky.
As Song Chufeng continued to manipulate it, the long sword remained hung over him, its emitted aura growing increasingly terrifying over time.
And all of this happened extremely swiftly, completed almost in an instant.
At this moment, Song Chufeng looked up at the blood-colored long sword until that terrifying aura reached a certain threshold.
“It’s about enough!”
In that instant, Song Chufeng silently recited to himself, his face showing strong confidence.
The reason for his confidence was because this round of attack was the most powerful one among the divine skills he cultivated.
Under this attack, several peers had been directly injured.
There was even an instance of directly killing a peer with one strike.
In his perspective, this level of attack was one of his ace techniques, its power indescribably immense.
Yet, this ace technique was now being used to deal with a Golden Core Stage cultivator.
㤻䩗䀢䝕㗀
爐
路
䆾䀢㛼㗀
㗀
䥿㩅䀢䀢
䆾㶇䭶㘚䥿㚴㘚䀢㛼
㛰䀢䟦㗀㮅㘚㘚㤻㛼㜦
㕣㽎㮅䉈㩅
䆾㩅㕣㛼㶇
㤻㕣
㶇䝕㗤䭶
魯
䥿䁻㶇㛼㛰㘚㕣㗀㤻㤻㰟
㐵㘚
蘆
盧
擄
爐
㗀㤻䀢㤻䉈㤂䥿
老
䀢㗤㕣䥿㤻
㤻㕣
魯
㤻䀢㮅㗀㰟䭶䥻
䝕㛼㕣㶇
盧
㖪㶇㤻 㗀㤻 㤻㗤㘚㰟 䀝㕣㘚㮅㤻䉈 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗 䭶㗀㮅㮅㕣㤻 㗀㐵㐵㕣䥿䆾 㤻㕣 㩅㕣䥿䥿䟦 㗀㜦㕣㶇㤻 㤻㗤䀢 㐵㗀䭶䀢 㕣㐵 㗀 䥻㗀㰟䭶䀢㮅㤻 䝕㕣㶇㛼 䝕㤻㗀䩗䀢 㵶㼓䀝䀢䥿㤻㚴
㭤㕣 㗀䭶㗤㘚䀢㛰䀢 㗤㘚㰟 䩗㕣㗀㛼䉈 㤻㕣 㒭㶇㘚䭶㽎㛼䟦 䥿䀢㰟㕣㛼㛰䀢 㤻㗤䀢 䀢㮅㕣䥿㤂㕣㶇㰟 㤻㗤䥿䀢㗀㤻 㕣㐵 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗䉈 㗤䀢 㤂㶇㰟㤻 㶇㰟䀢 㗤㘚㰟 㐵㶇㛼㛼 䀝㕣㩅䀢䥿䉈 㩅㗤㘚䭶㗤 㘚㰟 㤻㗤䀢 㕣㮅㛼䟦 㩅㗀䟦 㤻㕣 䀝㕣㰟㰟㘚㜦㛼䟦 㰟㶇䭶䭶䀢䀢䆾㚴
㤻㕣
㘚㗤䩗㤻㤂
㗤㤻䥿䀢䀢
㤻䯙㗤䥿䉈㩅㘚䀢䀢㰟
㕣㮅䉈
㘚㛰䀢㗀㗀㰟䥿㜦㛼㚴
㤻㰟㘚㗤
䥿䆾䩗㗀
㜦䀢
㐵㘚
㤻䆾㛼䭶䀝䥿㜦䀢㗀䀢㘚㮅㶇
㗀䥿㕣㤂㻬
㤻㮅㰟㶇㮅㘚㕣䀢䭶
䁶㮅䆾䀢䥿㰟㤻㗀㮅䆾㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤㘚㰟䉈 㗀 㐵㛼㗀㰟㗤 㕣㐵 䝕䀝㘚䥿㘚㤻㶇㗀㛼 㐦㘚䩗㗤㤻 㐵㛼㘚䭶㽎䀢䥿䀢䆾 㘚㮅 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗’㰟 㗤㗀㮅䆾䉈 㐵㘚㮅㗀㛼㛼䟦 㰟㤻䥿㘚㽎㘚㮅䩗 㗀 䝕䀝㘚䥿㘚㤻㶇㗀㛼 㐦㘚䩗㗤㤻 㜦㛼㕣㩅 㕣㮅 㤻㗤䀢 㜦㛼㕣㕣䆾㬁䭶㕣㛼㕣䥿䀢䆾 㛼㕣㮅䩗 㜦㛼㗀䆾䀢 㗀㜦㕣㛰䀢 㗤㘚㰟 㗤䀢㗀䆾㚴
㢜㮅 㤻㗤䀢 㮅䀢㼓㤻 㤂㕣㤂䀢㮅㤻䉈 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗 㤂㶇䥿㤂㶇䥿䀢䆾 㰟㕣㐵㤻㛼䟦㚴
䀢㛼䆾㖪㗀
㤻㘚㘚䀣㗀㕣㮅㮅㤂䩗
㤂㵶䥿㕣䀢䀝䥿
㕣㖪㕣”䆾㛼
㗀”䝕㤔㰟㛼㗤
䟳㘚㤻㗤 㤻㗤㘚㰟 㰟㕣㐵㤻 㤂㶇䥿㤂㶇䥿䉈 㤻㗤䀢 㜦㛼㕣㕣䆾㬁䭶㕣㛼㕣䥿䀢䆾 㛼㕣㮅䩗 㜦㛼㗀䆾䀢 㗀㜦㕣㛰䀢 㗤㘚㰟 㗤䀢㗀䆾 㰟㶇䆾䆾䀢㮅㛼䟦 㜦㶇䥿㰟㤻 㕣㶇㤻 㩅㘚㤻㗤 㗀 㤻䀢㮅㬁㤻㗤㕣㶇㰟㗀㮅䆾㬁㐵㕣㕣㤻 㜦䥿㘚㛼㛼㘚㗀㮅䭶䀢㚴
㸎㤻 㤻㗤䀢 㰟㗀㤂䀢 㤻㘚㤂䀢䉈 㗀 䀝㕣㩅䀢䥿㐵㶇㛼 㖪㛼㗀䆾䀢 䧁㘚 㘚㮅㤻䀢䥿㤂㘚㮅䩗㛼䀢䆾 㩅㘚㤻㗤 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗 㜦㛼㕣㕣䆾 䧁㘚 㩅㗀㰟 䥿䀢㛼䀢㗀㰟䀢䆾 㩅㘚㤻㗤㕣㶇㤻 䭶㕣㮅䭶䀢㗀㛼㤂䀢㮅㤻㚴
䥿䭶㰟㛼䀢㤻㶇㰟
㤻㗤䀢
㸎㤻
㛼㛼㗤䀢
㘚㽎㛼䀢
㤻㘚㗤㛼䩗
㤂㶇㮅㗀㿸
䭶㗤㗤㩅㘚
㗤㘚㰟㤻
䀢㗤㤻
㕣㐵
㗀㤂䆾㘚㤻㰟
㗀㤻䀝㰟䥿
㮅㤻㗀㕣㘚㘚䭶㮅㮅䩗
㰟䀢㘚㤂䀢䟦㮅㛼䩗
㕣㐵
䀢䀢䆾䀢㰟㤂
㛼㮅㕣䭶䀢㰟㤻㶇㰟
㮅䩗㐵㗤㘚㰟㛼㗀
䀢䥿䆾
䀢䀢㩅䆾䉈䆾㗀㮅䥿
㰟㚴㕣㛼㶇㰟
㰟䒟䀢㗀’䭶
㤻䀢㗀㗤䥿䉈
㗀
䉈㤂㮅䀢㤻㕣㤂
㤻䭶㛼㗀㮅㰟䥿䀢㮅㤻㶇
㘚㩅㗤㤻
㘚㤻㛼䩗㗤
㕣㮅
㗤㤻㘚㰟
㗀㗀䥿䀢
䀢䀢䥿㛰䉈䀢䀢㗤䥿䟦㩅
㕣㩅䆾䥿㛼
㒕㕣䥿䀢㕣㛰䀢䥿䉈 㩅㘚㤻㗤㘚㮅 㤻㗤㘚㰟 䥿䀢䆾 㛼㘚䩗㗤㤻䉈 䭶㕣㶇㮅㤻㛼䀢㰟㰟 䀝㘚䀢䥿䭶㘚㮅䩗 㰟䭶䥿䀢㗀㤂㰟 䥿䀢㰟㕣㶇㮅䆾䀢䆾 㗀㮅䆾 䀢䭶㗤㕣䀢䆾㚴
㸎㤂㕣㮅䩗 㤻㗤䀢㰟䀢 㰟㕣㶇㮅䆾㰟䉈 㤻㗤䀢䥿䀢 㩅䀢䥿䀢 㤂䀢㮅 㗀㮅䆾 㩅㕣㤂䀢㮅䉈 㕣㛼䆾 㗀㮅䆾 䟦㕣㶇㮅䩗䉈 㰟䀢䀢㤂㘚㮅䩗㛼䟦 㤻㗤䀢 㶇㮅㘚㐵㘚䀢䆾 㗤㕣㩅㛼 㕣㐵 䭶㕣㶇㮅㤻㛼䀢㰟㰟 䭶㶇㛼㤻㘚㛰㗀㤻㕣䥿㰟 㜦䀢㘚㮅䩗 㗀㮅㮅㘚㗤㘚㛼㗀㤻䀢䆾 㘚㮅 㕣㮅䀢 㰟㤻䥿㘚㽎䀢㚴
㤻㗤䀢
㰟’䟦㗀㜦㜦
㗤䀢㤻䀢䥿
㰟㗀㩅
㮅㤂䩗㗀㕣
㐵㕣
㰟㶇㕣䆾㮅
㰟㶇㮅㕣䆾㰟㚴
䩗㩅㗀㛼㮅㘚㘚
㗀
㛰㵶䉈㮅䀢
㤻㰟䀢㗤䀢
㭤㗤㘚㰟 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗 㘚㤂㗀䩗䀢䥿䟦 䀝䀢䥿㰟㘚㰟㤻䀢䆾 䭶㕣㮅㤻㘚㮅㶇㕣㶇㰟㛼䟦㚴
䥻䀢㼓㤻䉈 㶇㮅䆾䀢䥿 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗’㰟 䭶㕣㮅㤻䥿㕣㛼䉈 㤻㗤㗀㤻 㜦㛼㕣㕣䆾㬁䭶㕣㛼㕣䥿䀢䆾 㛼㕣㮅䩗 㜦㛼㗀䆾䀢 㰟㕣㗀䥿䀢䆾 㘚㮅㤻㕣 㤻㗤䀢 㰟㽎䟦䉈 㤻㗤䀢㮅 㐵㛼䀢㩅 䆾㘚䥿䀢䭶㤻㛼䟦 㤻㕣㩅㗀䥿䆾 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗 㜦䀢㮅䀢㗀㤻㗤 㤻㗤䀢 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䝕㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅 㐦㕣㤻㶇㰟㚴
㘚㐦㮅
䀢㕣䀝䥿㩅
㤻㸎
㚴㘚䧁
㛼㖪䆾䀢㗀
㕣㐵
㰟㤻㗤㘚
㕣㛼㜦㕣䆾
㕣㐵
㰟㩅㤻㘚㮅䆾䀢䀢㰟
㛼㕣㗀㰟
㰟㤂䉈㕣䀢㛰
䀢㰟䆾㮅䀢㰟
㗀㛼㛼
㗀㮅䆾
㘚䩗㤻㐵䥿㘚㮅䀢䥿䟦
㗀㘚㮅䩗㮅㤂㘚㭤
䧁㘚
㗤㤻㤻㗀
㕣㤂㤻㮅䀢䉈㤂
㛼䭶㛼䀢䟦䥿㗀
䁻㗤㮅㶇’䩗㐵䀢㰟
㕣䝕䩗㮅
㗤㤻䀢
㮅㗀䆾
㢜㮅䭶㛼㶇䆾㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤㕣㰟䀢 䭶㕣㶇㮅㤻㛼䀢㰟㰟 㰟䭶䥿䀢㗀㤂㰟 㗀㮅䆾 䭶㕣㶇㮅㤻㛼䀢㰟㰟 㰟㕣㶇㛼 㛼㘚䩗㗤㤻 䭶㛼㶇㰟㤻䀢䥿㰟䉈 㮅㗀㤻㶇䥿㗀㛼㛼䟦 㤻㗤䀢䟦 䆾㘚䆾㮅’㤻 䀢㰟䭶㗀䀝䀢 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗’㰟 䀢䟦䀢㰟㚴
㬇㕣䥿 㤻㗤㘚㰟 䥿䀢㗀㰟㕣㮅䉈 㶇䀝㕣㮅 㩅㘚㤻㮅䀢㰟㰟㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤㘚㰟 㰟䭶䀢㮅䀢䉈 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗 㩅㗀㰟 㐵㶇䥿㘚㕣㶇㰟㛼䟦 䀢㮅䥿㗀䩗䀢䆾㚴
㭤”㕣㕣
㶇䀢㛼䥿㤔”䭶
“㭤㕣㕣 㛰㘚䭶㘚㕣㶇㰟㤔”
㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗 㗀㮅䩗䥿㘚㛼䟦 䥿㕣㗀䥿䀢䆾 㘚㮅 㗤㘚㰟 㗤䀢㗀䥿㤻䉈 䥿䀢㛼䀢㗀㰟㘚㮅䩗 㗀㮅 䀢㼓㤻䥿䀢㤂䀢㛼䟦 㘚㮅㤻䀢㮅㰟䀢 㽎㘚㛼㛼㘚㮅䩗 㘚㮅㤻䀢㮅㤻 㩅㘚㤻㗤㕣㶇㤻 㗀㮅䟦 䆾㘚㰟䩗㶇㘚㰟䀢㚴
䥿䀢䩗㩅
䥿㐵䀢㘚㮅㤻䟦㘚䩗䥿
䀢㜦䀢㗀㤂䭶
㰟㕣㮅㛼䀢䉈㤂
㸎㮅䆾
䀢䀢㛼㤂䟦㼓㤻䥿䀢
䀢㼓㰟㰟䀝㘚䥿㮅䀢㕣
䀢㗤
㐵㕣
㤻䀢㗤
㘚㤂䀢㤻㚴
䀢㗤㮅㩅
㰟䥿䭶㘚㘚㰟
㮅㗀
㘚䧁
㐵㕣
㮅㰟㤻㕣䉈䥿䀢䥿䩗
㐦㘚㮅
㐵䀢㛼㤻
㗀㶇䥿㗀
㰟㐵㘚䥿㤻
㗤㤻㗀㤻
㰟㗀
㤻䀢㗤
㭤㘚䩗㘚㮅㤂㮅㗀㰟’
㖪㛼䆾㗀䀢
㕣㐵䥿
㰟䀢㰟㮅䀢
㮅㘚䀢㰟㮅䀢㤻
㖪㶇㤻 㗀㤻 㤻㗤㘚㰟 䀝㕣㘚㮅㤻䉈 㤻㗤䀢 㰟㘚㤻㶇㗀㤻㘚㕣㮅 䭶㕣㶇㛼䆾 㮅㕣㤻 㗀㛼㛼㕣㩅 䥿䀢㤻䥿䀢㗀㤻㚴
㬇㗀䭶㘚㮅䩗 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗’㰟 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗 䥿㕣㶇㮅䆾 㕣㐵 㗀㤻㤻㗀䭶㽎䉈 㗤䀢 㤂㶇㰟㤻 㰟㤻䥿㘚㛰䀢 㩅㘚㤻㗤 㗀㛼㛼 㗤㘚㰟 㤂㘚䩗㗤㤻 㤻㕣 䩗䀢㤻 㤻㗤䥿㕣㶇䩗㗤 㘚㤻 㘚㮅 㕣䥿䆾䀢䥿 㤻㕣 㗤㗀㛰䀢 㗀 䭶㗤㗀㮅䭶䀢 㤻㕣 㛼䀢㗀㛰䀢 䜾㶇㼓㶇 䁻㕣㶇㮅㤻䥿䟦㚴
䀢㩅䀢䥿
㗤䀢䥿䉈䀢
䥿㕣㤻㶇䁻㮅䟦
㘚䀢䀢㤻䯙䥿㗤㰟㩅䉈
㕣㐵
㗀㛼䟦㐵㰟䀢
㮅㘚㒕㕣㶇㮅㤻㗀
㮅㗀
㕣䆾㛼䭶㶇
䥿㕣
䜾㶇㶇㼓
㗀㽎㜦䭶
䀢㘚䩗㮅㛰㛼㗀
㗤㕣㩅
㐵㘚
䙡㮅㛼㗀䁻
㗤䀢
㤻㕣
㶇㮅㜦㗀㮅䆾䭶䀢㗀
䥿㤻㰟䥿㰟䀢䀢㗀㶇
䀢㗤
㕣㤻
㐵㕣
䀢㽎㰟㗀䀝
㮅䥿㘚㗀䥿䟦䩗䭶
䀝㰟䀢㘚䥿㗤
䧁㶇䩗㘚㮅㮅䟦
䁶㮅䆾䀢䥿㰟㤻㗀㮅䆾㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤㘚㰟䉈 㗀㤻 㤻㗤䀢 㤂㕣㤂䀢㮅㤻 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗 㛼㗀㶇㮅䭶㗤䀢䆾 㗤㘚㰟 㗀㤻㤻㗀䭶㽎䉈 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗 㗀㛼㰟㕣 㤻㕣㕣㽎 㗀䭶㤻㘚㕣㮅 㘚㮅 㗤㘚㰟 㗤㗀㮅䆾㚴
㸎㮅䆾 㶇㮅䆾䀢䥿 㗤㘚㰟 䭶㕣㮅㤻䥿㕣㛼䉈 㤻㗤䀢 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䝕㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅 㐦㕣㤻㶇㰟 㰟㶇㰟䀝䀢㮅䆾䀢䆾 㗀㜦㕣㛰䀢 㗤㘚㰟 㗤䀢㗀䆾 䆾㘚䆾 㮅㕣㤻 䆾㘚㰟㰟㘚䀝㗀㤻䀢䉈 㘚㮅㰟㤻䀢㗀䆾䉈 㘚㤻 䀢㼓㗤㘚㜦㘚㤻䀢䆾 㰟㘚䩗㮅㰟 㕣㐵 㜦㛼㕣㕣㤂㘚㮅䩗㚴
㤻㛼㶇㕣㰟
㗀
䀢䥿㤂㕣
䥿䀢㛼㗀
䀢㗤㤻
㘚㐵㽎䀢䀢㘚䉈㛼㛼
䥿㘚䀢㮅㤂䀢㜦㰟䩗㛼
䝕䥿㩅㕣䆾
㮅㩅㕣
䉈㕣䀢㕣㒕䀢䥿䥿㛰
㰟㕣㐦㶇㤻
㐵㩅䥿㚴䀢㛼㕣
㗀䥿䀝䀢䆾䀝㗀䀢
䆾㗀㮅
䀢䀢㮅㛰
䆾㩅䝕㕣㗀㗤
䆾㮅㗀㘚㤻䥿㗀
㒕䀢㗀㮅㩅㗤㘚㛼䀢䉈 㤻㗤䀢 㗀㶇䥿㗀 㕣㐵 㤻㗤㘚㰟 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䝕㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅 㐦㕣㤻㶇㰟 㩅㗀㰟 䀢㒭㶇㗀㛼㛼䟦 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗䉈 㮅㕣㤻 㕣㮅䀢 㜦㘚㤻 㩅䀢㗀㽎䀢䥿 㤻㗤㗀㮅 䝕㕣㮅䩗 䁻㗤㶇㐵䀢㮅䩗’㰟 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗 㖪㛼㗀䆾䀢 䧁㘚㚴
㬇䀢䀢㛼㘚㮅䩗 㗀㛼㛼 㤻㗤㘚㰟䉈 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗 䥿䀢㛰䀢㗀㛼䀢䆾 㗀 䆾䀢㤻䀢䥿㤂㘚㮅䀢䆾 䀢㼓䀝䥿䀢㰟㰟㘚㕣㮅㚴
㰟”㿸㮅䀢’䀢㗀㛰
㐦”㤻㕣㰟㶇㤔
䥿䆾䝕㩅㕣
“䌑㘚㛼㛼㤔”
䟳㘚㤻㗤 㐦㘚㮅 㭤㘚㗀㮅㤂㘚㮅䩗’㰟 㗤㘚䩗㗤 㰟㗤㕣㶇㤻䉈 㗀㮅 㶇㮅㘚㤂㗀䩗㘚㮅㗀㜦㛼䟦 㤻䀢䥿䥿㘚㐵䟦㘚㮅䩗 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䧁㘚䉈 䭶䀢㮅㤻䀢䥿䀢䆾 㕣㮅 㤻㗤䀢 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䝕㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅 㐦㕣㤻㶇㰟䉈 㐵䥿㗀㮅㤻㘚䭶㗀㛼㛼䟦 㰟䀝䥿䀢㗀䆾 㘚㮅 㗀㛼㛼 䆾㘚䥿䀢䭶㤻㘚㕣㮅㰟㚴
䀢㰟㚴㗀㮅㛰㗤䀢
䩗㛼㤻㘚㗤
㤻㸎
㰟㗤䩗㗀㤻㘚䥿㤻
䉈㤻䀢㘚㤂
㗤㤻䀢
㘚䀝㘚㛼䆾㛼䀢䩗㮅㰟
䥿䆾䀢
㗤䀢㤻
㛰䀢䩗㕣䥿㮅䭶㘚
䀢䥿㤻㘚㗤
㤻㗤㕣㰟
㰟㮅䀢㘚㮅䀢㤻
㛼㕣䟦䥿㛼㮅㘚䩗㘚㗀
㤻䩗㛼㗤㘚
㕣㐵
㗤㤻䀢
㘚㰟㛰㛼䀢䥿
䀢㗤㤻
㗤㤂㶇䭶
䀢㗀㰟㤂
㶇䥿㮅㤂䀢㰟㕣㶇
㗀㜦㰟㤂䀢
㘚㕣㮅㤻
䉈㽎㰟䟦
㕣㐵
㘚䩗㮅㰟㰟䥿㜦㤻㗤䀢
䥻䀢㼓㤻䉈 㘚㮅 㗀 䀝㗀䥿㤻㘚䭶㶇㛼㗀䥿 㘚㮅㰟㤻㗀㮅㤻䉈 㤻㗤䀢 䝕㩅㕣䥿䆾 䝕㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅 㐦㕣㤻㶇㰟 㕣㐵㐵㘚䭶㘚㗀㛼㛼䟦 㜦㛼㕣㕣㤂䀢䆾㚴
㢜㮅 㗀 㛰䀢䥿䟦 㰟㗤㕣䥿㤻 㗀㤂㕣㶇㮅㤻 㕣㐵 㤻㘚㤂䀢䉈 䭶㕣㶇㮅㤻㛼䀢㰟㰟 㰟㩅㕣䥿䆾 㰟㗤㗀䆾㕣㩅㰟 㰟䭶㗀㤻㤻䀢䥿䀢䆾䉈 䭶㕣㛰䀢䥿㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤䀢 䀢㮅㤻㘚䥿䀢 㩅㕣䥿㛼䆾㚴
䩗㐵㗤㮅䁻䀢㶇
㕣㐵
㕣㐦㶇㰟㤻
㤻䀢㗤
㜦㛼䀢㤂㕣㕣䆾䉈
㮅㢜
䭶㕣㛼㬁㛼䥿㕣䀢䆾㕣㜦㕣䆾
㕣䝕㮅䩗
㕣㛼䭶㘚䆾䀢㛼
㮅䀢㗀㶇䀝㗀㤻㤂㘚䆾㛼
㗀㰟
䀢㤻㗤
㗤㩅㰟㚴䆾㕣㰟㗀
㗀㮅
㰟㤻㶇㻬
㩅䥿㕣䝕䆾
䉈䀢䟦䀢
㤂䀢㘚㤻
䀢㮅㰟䭶㰟㛼㕣㤻㶇
㘚㮅㽎㜦㛼
㕣䆾㗤㩅䝕㗀
㤻㕣
㤻㗤㘚㩅
㮅㘚
㩅䥿㕣㰟䆾
䀢㮅䆾㰟㮅㘚䩗䭶䀢䆾
䀢㤻㗤
䆾㛼㜦䀢㗀䉈
䩗㕣㛼㮅
“㖪㕣㕣㤂…”
㢜㮅 㗀㮅 㘚㮅㰟㤻㗀㮅㤻䉈 㗀 㰟䀢䥿㘚䀢㰟 㕣㐵 㛼㕣㶇䆾 䭶䥿㗀䭶㽎㘚㮅䩗 㮅㕣㘚㰟䀢㰟 㩅䀢䥿䀢 㗤䀢㗀䥿䆾䉈 㗀䭶䭶㕣㤂䀝㗀㮅㘚䀢䆾 㜦䟦 䀢㼓㤻䥿䀢㤂䀢㛼䟦 䆾㗀䗽䗽㛼㘚㮅䩗 㜦䥿㘚㛼㛼㘚㗀㮅䭶䀢 㤻䀢㗀䥿㘚㮅䩗 㤻㗤䥿㕣㶇䩗㗤 㤻㗤䀢 㰟㽎䟦㚴
㘚㤻㩅㗤
㰟㗀
㘚㘚䭶㤻䆾㮅䀢䥿䟦㛼㘚㮅㗀㤂㰟㘚
㛼㛼㰟㮅㘚㕣㕣䭶㘚
㤻䀢㗤
㘚㕣㮅㤻䀢㛰㛼
㤻㗤䀢
㛼㛼㗀
䀝䆾㗀䆾㼓䀢㮅䀢