The black robe was like a dark cloud, wrapped in snowy lightning.

It was a glance, a star, and a stopped gaze of Lin Ming, but it was no less than the lightning that brightened the world in the eyes of the monk.

"Boom!"

There was a real thunderclap in my ears, and after the thunder was a short and long deafness.

The monk fell, bleeding from all seven orifices.

At this time, the word 'death' spit out of Lin Ming's mouth could be dropped.

What kind of spell is this?

What kind of power is this?

The monk emerged from the ground, and when he fell, the ground gave no second response, except for the slight tremor caused by the corpse hitting the ground.

It's silent.

Until the monk's corpse was picked up by Lin Ming, until his still hot blood was poured out of the air and snaked into Lin Ming's mouth like a swimming snake, until his body began to break up and turn into gray-black particles.

Lin Ming sucked the monk's blood dry, and stretched on the top of the street lamp, lazy and close to laxity.

"Wicked!

Six swords, six people, the flaws between them were tightly grasped, and the sword light broke through the earth, like an angry dragon.

The dead monks were dressed in gray, and the swordsmen who broke out of the ground were dressed in white.

Off-white, plain fabric. It's perfect for attending a funeral, and no matter what role you play in it, it won't seem obtrusive.

"Huh!"

They moved quickly, and by the time they shouted the slogan of the attack, the swords in their hands had already pierced into their targets.

Lin Ming's body was pierced by six swords from his chest and back, and he still maintained a lazy posture, like the tranquility of the old people who had passed away in their sleep.

"Huh!"

Drawing the sword, the moment the sword with all kinds of brilliance was withdrawn, Linming's peaceful face was also instantly withdrawn.

Broken and fragmented.

Body, hands and feet, face, clothes.

Broken and fragmented.

Just like every target stabbed by these six swords.

Spicy methods, nirvana tricks, and perhaps six heart-to-heart hearts and forbearance.

"Got it!"

These six white-clothed swordsmen have the same appearance and should be twin brothers.

Standing next to Lin Ming's shattered and falling corpse, the eyes of the six people were full of irrepressible excitement, and one of them raised his sword and pointed in all directions and shouted:

"Rats, come out and die!"

A famous blood clan was very 'obedient' and put down their own 'work', and during the period from the time the monk called for the battle to the time when Lin Ming was chopped to pieces, these blood clans were like 'addicted to replenishing the army and couldn't extricate themselves', and they seemed to be unaware of what was happening around them.

Until they heard the cry.

"What did you just say? Can you repeat that again?"

A vampire still had a smear of blood on his lips as he dragged a lifeless body like a dead dog towards the six monks standing out of thin air.

The cooled blood dragged a mark and a path on the ground.

"Rats!"

The 'leading brother' in the opponent's camp has been killed, and the morale of the six swordsmen is high.

One of the six swordsmen threw his sword, and the flying sword turned into a rainbow of light that took the vampire's head, and its momentum was unstoppable.

But there was no fear on the vampire's face, no hesitation in his steps, and mockery in his scarlet eyes.

Before the flying sword could fly out, it was stopped three feet away.

It was a hand that stopped it.

A hand that is detached from the torso and exists on its own.

Fair, slender fingers, perfectly proportioned palms, without wrists, it was cut whole from the wrist area.

One is out of the owner's hand.

"Not good!"

The swordsman's reaction was not unpleasant, and the moment he saw the severed hand, he wanted to get the same thing.

The target they thought had been killed had not died at all, and they had found themselves at a great disadvantage by believing that they had succeeded in 'decapitation' and had put themselves in the open.

They felt that they had been tricked, and in order to dispel this emotion and flee and reverse their current situation, six swordsmen teamed up to perform a sword trick.

There were supposed to be six swords, but now there are only five left, and only the trick is still six.

The five swords were in the air, and the Dao light shone out, protecting the six people like a big cover.

Good defense, it's really a good choice for those who are caught in the crowd.

However, the defense value of this sword technique lasted for a second, not even a second.

Lin Ming is not dead, since he is not dead, then the thoughts in the heads of these people cannot hide from his eyes.

The defensive circles exploded, and each flying sword stabbed into the chest of their respective owners.

Blood splashed, treasure soldiers fell, the night trembled, and a figure on the street lamp was lifted and walked out of the front desk.

It's Linming.

He stood there as if he had never moved.

There were no wounds or holes in his body, and he held a sword in one of his hands—the hand that was attached to his wrist and was not separated.

The other clans in this town have never stopped their 'work', and no one has ever walked towards this place with a cold face and a corpse.

Five men, five swords, each with their own chests, straight to the heart. And the person who was snatched the sword by Lin Ming was bleeding from the seven orifices, which was the same as the death of the monk.

Magic.

Terrifying illusions.

These six talents were recruited as soon as they appeared.

"Whew. ”

opened his mouth and sucked up the blood of these six people, Lin Ming was still standing on the street lamp, but no more 'righteous people' came out of the ground.

"Movement...... Isn't it big enough?"

Looking north, contemplative, speechless.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The day dawns and the new year begins.

Some are celebrating, some are worried. Some people are still on the way home, and some people have already embarked on the road to leave their hometown.

With the sword on his back and a white shirt, the hair that he hadn't cut for months had covered his ears, and Mo Xie tied them a little with a rope.

He moved when he had regained his strength, this time not using his mental strength to hurry, but relying on his feet.

The speed of driving Route 11 is very debatable, and he was able to walk out of the mountains when the first round of the sun shone on Mo Xie in the new year.

He was walking along the road, and there was no traffic on the road at this time, and there were no pedestrians other than him.

Maybe it's too remote.

"Chisel city - 100 km. ”

Mo Xie glanced at the street sign, and his heart was unwavering.