Money is to be earned, to earn the scenery, to earn it for granted, other people's money into their own hands is their own money, other people's status I can buy with money - this is the value orientation of the big stallion, and therefore he ignores some things called faith and persistence. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

"You two get to know each other. The corners of his mouth were raised with contempt, and in this narrow old cantonment cave, there might be lost warrior spirits watching around, and the contempt of the big stallion rushed at any existence, even making him completely indifferent to the risk of calculating a Templar master.

"She's the next witch to kill me?" Yelia was expressionless, her bronze complexion made her look more like a bronze statue in a bottle museum, her temperament was indifferent, and when she said "kill me", it was more like discussing "kill an ant" as inconsequential.

"She ......" Loloxia's mind came alive, ruling out the urge to kill the big stallion right now - Kyle is still in the other party's hands, and the shameless hooligan sees this, in the little witch's heart, Kyle is very important, and a hundred big stallions can't be replaced. Lolosia looked at the tall woman in front of her, like every Aragonese woman, strong enough, a head taller than herself, with exceptionally clear muscles, but she didn't feel the aura of the sword or Dia, she had no momentum, even in front of a vile foe—the big stallion was smiling contemptuously, the kind of laugh he had when he woke Kyle.

"Hello!" Lolohia offered to hold out her hand, knowing that the other party must have a hard time.

"Hmm. Yelia reached out and took Loloxia's hand, and when the two palms were stacked together, the big stallion rarely put away his contempt, and the two hooked eyes focused on the junction of the two palms, one large and one small.

"Whoosh!"

"Bump!"

"Ahh

The big stallion didn't have time to react, and the eyesight of the high-ranking samurai seemed dispensable at this time.

His stunned expression froze on his face, as if he had been molded in front of him.

"You ......" he looked at Loloxia, who had fallen to Yelia's knees—no, it should be said that Loloxia, who had been attacked by Yelia - a quick one-knee blow from a powerful Templar, the Bear of Aragon, which could kick a rock-shattering knee and smash into the soft belly of a delicate little witch.

"Poof!" Lolohia screamed, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and then coughing lifelessly, "Ahem......

"Yelia, if you kill her......" The big stallion threatened, "I'm going to have to take someone to replace her, but your sister can ......" He bluffed and threatened, and his brain turned quickly, but in fact he was subconsciously afraid of the knee blow just now, so fast, he asked himself if he couldn't stop it.

The big stallion said assertively, even taking advantage of no one to reply to clear his throat, straighten out his emotions, the sudden incident just now was something he did not expect, thinking of the tough hole cards in his hand, he started again: "'Aragonese Bear' is really extraordinary, you are so brave, presumably Ling Mei also has an invulnerable physique......?

"She's okay. Yelia spat out a few words faintly, not even bothering to change the tone of her voice.

"What? Are you arguing with me? I'd love to try how much your delicate sister can withstand......" The big stallion was anxious, gritting his teeth and daring to rush over, he had to suppress the arrogance of this stinky girl, otherwise how could he talk about business?

"You," Elia said, shaking her index finger at the big stallion that was a head taller than her.

The big stallion's face turned red with anger: "Do you think I don't dare? Your sister will have to pay the price for your arrogance! You won't fall off without seeing the coffin...... In fact, threatening a temple, the big stallion has always been very weak-minded, otherwise why would he be so easy to get angry? The mentality that has been mixed for decades is weak in the face of the absolute power gap, and only the clamor of the castle in the air can compensate for the fragility of his self-esteem -- if the other party really has any wrong tendons, it will be doomed together, and his big stallion has no way at all.

"I mean 'she'" Elia's hand rested on Loloxia's neck, turning into claws.

"If you dare to kill her, you try, I'll make your sister's life worse than death!"

Loloxia's face was pale and she was still coughing up blood, and this knee blow was definitely not light.

Yelia stared into the little witch's eyes, and the eyes of the "Bear of Aragon" were really bright at this time.

"You ......" The big stallion watched as Yelia grabbed the little witch by the neck and lifted her up, he didn't know what to say to be useful. Yelia didn't listen to what she said, but the big stallion didn't listen.

"I mean 'she'" so Yelia repeated, her eyes figuring slightly on the golden broom hairpin of Lolohia and quickly moving away to stare at the little witch's face, "She's okay." ”

Yelia raised her other hand and pointed at the little witch.

The big stallion was puzzled, but this time he knew he was mistaken. The rogue leader waited quietly for Elia's next step.

I don't know who Yelia is explaining, but she just stares at the little witch's eyes that are gradually recovering from their brightness, even though the whites of the latter's eyes are still covered with bursting capillaries, "If she had been killed by me just now, she would not have deserved the name of 'killing Elia'"

……

……

If people who have passed out are dreaming, they usually fall into a deep subconscious and can't extricate themselves, which is a very happy thing, few people can have such a good opportunity to re-understand themselves, and then clearly, without hesitation, immersive experience of what they want, this life will not forget, what kind of wonder?

The little boy was huddled in the stable, barefoot, shirtless, and his shorts were in tatters, as if they had been snatched by a large herd of wild cats. His face was yellow, and his cheekbones were as brown as those of a weathered old man.

He was eight years old, holding a rusty broad-edged sword in both hands, the sword side resting on his chest, and his back against the wooden post of the stable, and he could not stand still, because if the center of gravity was unbalanced, he would be overwhelmed by the iron sword of twenty pounds.

On his face, the tears that had been dry for a long time told the desolation of the village being slaughtered by the bandits, and the eyes that had been red many times were unwilling to take a break and rest, staring at the two thieves in front of him.

The two of them had killed his mother in front of him a minute earlier, shamelessly and brutally, and this cruelty had made the little boy realize in his heart that he had picked up his sword.

I don't know where this rusty broad-edged sword came from;