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"Here, someone is coming again!" "Come down, I've been waiting for a long time!" "Come on!" The figures stretched out their arms and beckoned to Gordon in a thrilling call.

The screams seemed to be struggling to squeeze out of the end of a nightmare, full of endless pain. Sometimes sharpened into a sharp needle, sometimes whimpering like a devil crying, sometimes like a boulder weighing heavily on the chest...... Gordon's heart seemed to be grabbed by the scream, crumbling, tearing, tearing and tearing like crazy, and the torment was almost unbearable.

"Listen carefully to the call." The hoarse voice of the ghost newt came from a distance, "This is the despair and remorse that the warrior is unwilling to die with. ”

Gordon turned around, grasped the dagger, and stared at the newt in sight, his eyes always as calm as stone, without a trace of disorder.

Waves of golden pulp roared behind Gordon, covering thousands of feet. There is no road there, but there will never be only one road.

"Compared to you, that guy is just a piece of garbage, and he is not qualified to be called a martial artist at all." The newt looked at Gordon with interest, licking its long tongue, and the "that guy" in his mouth clearly meant the thin man.

"What is a warrior?" Gordon asked quietly, the corner of his eye sweeping the ravines in all directions. Those ravines are bottomless, spitting fire, faintly roaring, and jumping into them will surely die.

"The so-called warrior: not greedy for entertainment, not bound by the world. The mountain collapses in front, the color does not change, the silence is in the back, and the heart does not regret. Speaking of this, the ugly face of the ghost newt showed a solemn color, and slowly straightened up, walked upright, and entered the realm of stone with fire in stone.

Gordon shook his head: "We are just assassins, not warrior knights. He tried to talk as much nonsense as he could, giving his tired muscles a little more time to recover.

"The faith of a warrior has nothing to do with his profession!" The ghost newt said indifferently, "Without faith, martial arts can only be reduced to a tool for killing people forever. He had an extra dark red bandage on his hand, and as he walked slowly, he wrapped the bandage around his whole body until it was impenetrable, revealing only his miserable blue eyes and blood-red lips.

"Martial arts are tools for killing." Gordon felt strange, what kind of belief did a low-level killer of the Blood Hell Society still have, and his cultivation was so bad that his brain was broken?

"Then in the end, you will also be reduced to a tool of killing, no different from a dagger or a stabbing sword." The newt walked across from Gordon, paused, and pointed its sword at the figures in the magma river. "It's no different from them. Do you know what they are? ”

"Bitter Owl." Gordon replied. One by one, the bitter owls let out a terrible howl of pain, and their arms reached out to the two of them, and the lava flowed down their claws.

They have human faces, limbs, and torsos that resemble humans, except that their bodies are tightly wrapped in thick and dense feathers, which shine with a golden luster.

In the magma river where the bitter owl monster lives, ordinary people fall down, and their flesh and bones melt on the spot. But if a martial artist who cultivates the source power falls into the river, he will be hugged by the bitter owl monster. The feathers on the body of the Bitter Owl will fall off strangely and cover the warrior's body, turning the warrior into a Bitter Owl monster.

Miscivers who have lost their feathers will be incinerated to ashes in the flames.

"According to ancient legends, the bitter owl monster is the embodiment of the remorse of the warrior when he died, and he will not be able to leave the lava river for the rest of his life, and he will endure endless suffering. Therefore, they are bent on finding the warrior and turning the warrior into their own stand-in, so as to gain liberation. The newt spoke eloquently, and at this time, he did not have the breath of a beast, but like a contemplative philosopher.

"It's just a legend." Gordon stared at the bandage that covered the newt's body, it was supposed to be a special fireproof fabric that effectively insulated from the heat. Close to the earthfire magma, Gordon was already so hot that his clothes were soaked, and the newt didn't even ooze a drop of sweat.

"A legend is also a belief." The Onichem said slowly, "Whenever I feel that my cultivation is too hard and I want to give up, I will always come to the magma river and watch these bitter owls who are struggling in pain. ”

"Do you want to be them? Do you want to die with endless regrets? What was the purpose of your martial arts cultivation in the first place? ”

"I asked myself again and again, looking for real answers in my heart." The newt stared at Gordon and slowly shifted its footsteps towards him.

"You're an ascetic!" Gordon suddenly realized.

The newt was silent.

"Why are you saying this to me?" Gordon continued to talk about it. Many warriors like to spoil a lot of before taking out their enemies to satisfy their sense of superiority. As a result, time was delayed and the enemy turned the tables around.

"Because I also feel the faith of a warrior in you. People like you and me are actually very lonely. The newt moved its bayonet and pointed it at Gordon, the tip of the sword condensing into a shining point of light. For a respectful opponent, a precious kind, I want you to die with no regrets, instead of becoming a miserable monster who suffers for a lifetime. ”

"Faith? Why am I unaware? Gordon saw that the newt was about to make a move, so he hurried to find a topic.

A strange smile appeared on the newt's face: "For example, you have been stalling for time now, looking for an opportunity to fight back. Or if you run into a cave, not out of fear, but out of sniping the garbage. ”

"This is the belief of a warrior!" The ghost newt screamed and pounced, and the stabbing sword trembled out with a thousand points of cold light.

At this moment, the narrow bayonet disappeared in front of Gordon's eyes, turning into flickering points of light. Every point of light seems to be transformed by a bayonet sword, like a virtual and real, jumping and expanding, and it is impossible to judge the trajectory of the fall.

Gordon jumped to his feet, his breath in the vents, and flew around the newt like a spinning hurricane. The dagger stabbed out frequently with dazzling degrees, and dealt with the exquisite and complex sword skills of the ghost newt with the fastest degree.

In the face of such a formidable opponent, any further reservations will only lead to death.

The ghost newt's sword light flashed, turning into a round ball of brilliant light, and the whole person seemed to be wrapped in the center of the ball of light. "Dangdang!" The sword and dagger exchanged hundreds of blows, and no matter how fast the dagger was, it would always be blocked by one after another points of light.

Ten minutes later, the newt shook its sword and began to fight back.

The sword light suddenly turned into wisps of silver thread, intertwined into a net, and wrapped around the dagger, getting tighter and tighter, and getting denser and denser. Gordon's dagger was getting heavier and heavier, and it was difficult to wield it flexibly. After a while, the dagger was driven by the sword light, and he couldn't help himself. After another moment, his whole body was also entangled in the densely intertwined sword web, and it was difficult to get out.

In an instant, the net of the Ghost Newt Sword tightened violently, and countless silver threads cut towards Gordon.

The totem was surging with blood, the primordial and pure power poured into the dagger, and Gordon rushed towards the ghost newt outside the sword net.

"Dang!" The dagger shook open the stabbing sword, and the sword net shattered into countless points of light and disappeared into the air. Gordon's dagger let out a sharp sound, and he threw it out of his hand and shot it at the newt's brain.

The newt's long tongue suddenly poked out and grazed the dagger. The dagger redirected slightly, slicing through the newt's cheek, tearing open a bone-deep wound.

Gordon ducked back to the edge of the boulder. The fire gushed out all around, pouring like a pour, and behind it was a golden-red river of fire, boiling and tumbling.

Unarmed, Gordon subconsciously posed in the Tibetan abyss pose, with his left palm standing on his chest and his right palm stretched behind his back. Suddenly, his heart was shocked, and he saw in a trance that deep underground beneath the magma river, a magnificent river of time rushed by.

"Amazing!" The newt touched his blood-stained cheek and burst into a hoarse laugh, "This blow is already at the level of the hematite!" If there is any other trick to press the bottom of the box, just use it, I'll give you a chance to compete! ”

"Ascetics challenge the limits and pursue the ultimate in martial arts." Gordon pondered and spoke, "There's a limit, I wonder if you're willing to compete with me?" ”

The ghost newt stabbed the sword and shook out a cloud of cold light: "Say." ”

"The limits of life and death." Gordon suddenly laughed, his life was cut off, and he was in the depths of death, and a trace of crazy excitement was inexplicably born in his heart. "In ancient legends, warriors who have become stand-ins for the bitter owl monster also have a chance to be reborn."

The newt was slightly stunned: "That's just a legend." ”

"As you said, legend is also a belief." Gordon flipped upside down in the air and jumped down the lava river, arms reaching out to him.

"Come on, give me a chance!"