Everyone recovered from the initial shock, and ran to Nighthawk's side, hurriedly finding all kinds of supplies from their backpacks that could be used to bandage, even if it was just a tissue, it was not small to comfort everyone. But the blood of the military stab has been kept non-stop, and no amount of hemostatic supplies is in vain. If you don't pull out the knife in your body, you will never be able to stop the bleeding.

Nighthawk looked at the panicked crowd and the unconscious military thorns, and his heart was about to burst into flames.

He shouted, "Don't mess around here, if you do it again, everyone will die." Black bear, you hold me the thorn, and the mines and monkeys help him. Now, I'm going to pull out his knife, Yaksha, you have a quick hand, wait for your hand to stop the bleeding quickly. ”

As he asked, the crowd lifted up the unconscious thorn. Touching the soft body of the military thorn made the noses of the comrades-in-arms who usually get along with him sour.

Nighthawk gripped the hilt of the knife tightly, and the green tendons on his head broke out, and cold sweat trickled down. The life and death of the military assassin will be his reaction in the next second. Nighthawk's eyes widened, and suddenly he roared, his hands gathering all his strength, and his hands clenched the hilt of his sword and jerked back.

Matsumoto's ancestral sword shone with a dazzling cold light, and there was not even a trace of blood left, and the blood that shot out of the body of the military stab quickly pulled out of the body of the military stab.

"Ahh The unconscious spur was awakened by the sudden pain.

Jun's stinging face turned pale, and he looked down at the Yaksha who was stopping the bleeding for himself, and smiled in a trance: "I'm not dead yet!" He said just one word, then tilted his head and fainted again.

Yaksha nervously touched his pulse, then breathed a sigh of relief and said to Nighthawk, who was already dead-faced beside him, "Captain, it's okay, I've fainted for the time being." However, I don't think he will last long, he has been so badly injured and has shed so much blood, if he doesn't save it, I'm afraid he will ......" Yaksha didn't go on, but they all knew that the injuries he was suffering now meant what he was about to face.

"No, he's not going to die, I'm going to take him out." Nighthawk was a bit of a sad whisper talking to himself, and there was no longer the calm and chic he used to be.

Having traveled so many roads together, everyone here is a good brother who is closely related to his life, and he does not allow a single person's life to pass away like sand from his hands.

Nighthawk had Black Bear and Landmine make an improvised stretcher out of the equipment in their backpacks, and Yaksha went to carry Monroe behind him, ready to retreat immediately.

Matsumoto suddenly laughed: "Okay, what a group of brave Shina people, I am convinced of defeat." It seems that I am going to die today, so you don't have to do it, please give me the sword, so that I can have the last dignity of a samurai. Death, for us Fusang people, is also a sacred and noble thing. Nighthawk watched Matsumoto, whose face was distorted, and Matsumoto, who was paralyzed in a pool of blood with his broken arm, suddenly lost even a trace of resentment. I just felt very tired, and when I was tired, I immediately wanted to find a place to sleep, and when I woke up, I found that what happened today was just a dream.

What is this for?

Is it just to kill the man in front of him who is elegant and demonic?

Do you have to sacrifice your siblings in order to kill him?

Is this qiē worth it?

Nighthawk suddenly felt that Matsumoto was also pitiful, and he gave up his life and his dignity for those ideals and goals that he couldn't see and couldn't figure out. In the end, what do you get?

Is it the relief of dying tragically at your own hands?

Matsumoto in front of him, he no longer hates, or he doesn't want to hate at all. What is there for a dying man to hold a grudge against himself? What's more, a person who deserves respect in some ways. His nobility, his elegance, always made Nighthawk unforgettable, even after many years.

Nighthawk kicked the knife to Matsumoto's side, and said coldly: "I respect you, I believe that you are also a person with martial virtues, you can do it yourself." Matsumoto solemnly picked up the family heirloom knife that Nighthawk disdained, slowly placed it on his blood-stained legs, and slowly stroked the blade with his incomplete left hand, his eyes full of reverence and yearning.

Suddenly, he looked up and looked deeply at Nighthawk. The eyes are as calm as water, and there is no trace of horror about death, but more like a yearning and expectation.

He slowly groped for a short knife with an ancient scabbard from his waist and slowly raised it in front of him.

"Warrior of Huaxia, although I don't know your name, you are the bravest Huaxia person I have ever seen.

Your martial arts skills are extremely high, you are full of courage, and you are brave and brave. As he spoke, he stared intently at the dagger in his hand that was as warm as jade and spit dazzling light: "This knife in my hand was originally a treasure knife that my father inadvertently obtained when he went to China.

My father has always regarded it as a treasure and has never used it in his life. Now, this knife will be given to you, and it can be regarded as the return of the knife to its original owner. Only a warrior like you deserves it. Matsumoto raised his sword above his head with a sincere look of anticipation, expecting Nighthawk to accept his last request as a samurai before he died! This knife is also a continuation of his martial spirit.

At this moment, he has long lost the momentum of dominating the world, and has been replaced by a childlike expectation.

Nighthawk looked at his dazed comrades behind him, took a deep breath, and walked quickly to Matsumoto's side.

There was a "roar", like a stream of water, as if it was swimming on the body, gently gliding over the face of the nighthawk. Although dazzling, it is not dazzling, and the blade is so sharp that it seems that even the air can cut through it.

"Good knife, sure enough, it's a good knife, I took it!" Nighthawk put the knife back into its sheath and said preciously.

Matsumoto smiled, a smile of relief on his face, as if he had finally completed the last major event in his life. Even the whole person doesn't look so decadent and depressed anymore. Even if it is soaked in blood, there is a kind of sunset radiance.

Matsumoto put away his smile, stopped talking, and slowly picked up the family heirloom knife in front of him, grabbed the handle of the knife with his backhand, and fixed it on his chest.

Raise your head and smile at the sky: "I thought that I, Ichiro Matsumoto, wanted to lead Fuso back to prosperity with my own strength, but today, I was defeated by a few people." Father, it's me who is incompetent, it seems that I can't fulfill your grand wish, if there are descendants, let them continue, unfilial son Ichiro came to you. In the midst of the laughter, Matsumoto burst into tears, and his unfinished cause was about to disappear with this knife.

"Knives! O sword, the treasure sword of the ancestors! I can't cross the world with you anymore! Just let my blood! Let's go with you on the last journey! The sad voice ended. Matsumoto wiped away his tears and slammed the knife towards his stomach.

"Bang!" Sudden gunshots rang out. A bullet accurately hit Matsumoto's hand holding the knife, Matsumoto roared, his injured left hand could not bear the weight of the knife, and with a clatter, the sword fell back to the ground.

"Want to die? Hehe, it's not that easy, President Matsumoto, just let me give you a ride today. With a treacherous laugh, a group of heavily armed soldiers quickly occupied the exits of the main hall, and it was obvious that they were a well-trained force with their agility and skill.

Shimada sat in a wheelchair, pushed by several bodyguards behind him, and walked in with a wicked smile. Beside him, there stood a tall, handsome young man in camouflage uniform, who did not look at the dying Matsumoto, but just stared at the Nighthawk with fierce eyes.

Nighthawk and his party immediately raised their guns, and confronted Shimada's people vigilantly, swords rattling, and swords added at any time.

The young man beside Shimada looked relaxed, the corners of his mouth pulled slightly, and he lowered his head and whispered a few words to Shimada.

Shimada put away his smile, turned his head to look at the Nighthawk and them, and said impatiently: "Gentlemen Huaxia, your mission is completed, just hand over Matsumoto, a traitor, to me."

Seeing that your people are already injured, hurry up and leave, the police will be here soon.

Don't worry, I'll treat Matsumoto well. After saying that, looking at Matsumoto, who was sitting on the ground in a daze in surprise and indifference, he smiled again.

Matsumoto suddenly realized, and said bitterly: "It turns out that you are making trouble." Hehe, I didn't expect that my savior at the beginning has now become a life-urging ghost who wants my life. Well, the life was yours, take it. The injured hand was gently put down, compassionate, and looked like it was waiting to be slaughtered.

Nighthawk looked at Matsumoto, who was dejected, and a sense of sadness rose inexplicably in his heart. Thinking that Matsumoto was about to fall into the hands of Shimada, a shameless traitor, he suddenly felt that he was just an executioner, Shimada's accomplice.

"Captain, let's go, Matsumoto will definitely not survive if he hands them over, and the military assassin is dying." The monkey screamed behind him with a crying voice. The military thorn lying on the stretcher was already more in and less out at this time.

Nighthawk gritted his teeth, stopped looking at Matsumoto, and turned back and walked towards his own people.

When he passed by Shimada's side, Shimada smiled and said to Nighthawk, "Mr. Huaxia, you guys are really amazing, without you, my people might have to work a lot." Anyway, thank you so much this time. "Stretch out your hand and want to show your respect.

Nighthawk looked at him with disgust at his hypocritical appearance. If necessary, he would really want to shoot this traitor for glory. Without raising his head, Nighthawk hurriedly beckoned his team members to walk out quickly, leaving Shimada with a smile on his face, and stretched out his hand into the air in embarrassment.

"Bage Yalu, these damn guys, how dare you defy me." Shimada yelled angrily at Nighthawk's back.

"Don't worry, there will be a chance to clean them up! It's just not now, they're still useful, hehe. The young man next to him said to Shimada with a relaxed face, and Shimada immediately dressed like a pug, and kept saying with a shy face: "Yes! Be! You're talking about it! The young man ignored Shimada, who had a flattering face, and gently paced in front of Matsumoto, and walked around Matsumoto twice with a smile, standing in front of Matsumoto, clasping his hands and staring at Matsumoto quietly.

"Who are you?" Matsumoto felt very strange, Shimada was actually polite to this guy, it seems that this person is not a simple person.

"Hehe, Mr. Matsumoto, we finally met, it's not easy to meet you." The young man laughed and said to Matsumoto teasingly.

Matsumoto's face sank, although he was ready to die, but Jiwei was still there, and there was no room for sand in his eyes. I don't want to be molested when I am unbearable. He shouted, "If you have anything to say, you can kill me quickly, I, Ichiro Matsumoto, am not a humiliated person." The young man laughed, laughing unscrupulously and without scruples.

After a long while, he stopped, looked at Matsumoto, whose brows were already wrinkled, and said pleasantly: "I am Mr. Babu's man, do you know the cheetah?" I am a cheetah. Matsumoto suddenly realized: "It turned out to be you!" I said, "Why does a guy like Shimada have such a careful mind to kill me!" It's you, hehe, so so, so so! The young man nodded: "Sue you, it is to let you die clearly." Whoever is against Mr. Babu, no matter who it is, don't want to live, now you will die without regrets. Matsumoto raised his head mockingly and laughed: "It seems that the Huaxia people just now are the same as me, but they have become pawns in your hands." Looking at the silent Matsumoto, the cheetah slowly raised his gun, and said softly with a smile on the corner of his mouth: "Goodbye, Mr. Matsumoto!" “