There was a loud bang and the sky was shocked, and before he had taken two steps, the burning high-rise building behind him collapsed, the building collapsed, the smoke and dust were filled, and it was flying everywhere. The entire school field was gray, and even the night was covered.

Nighthawk sighed, it was another time to escape from death, if it wasn't for the decisive digging just now, they would probably have been buried in the fire at this moment. There is no counterattack of breaking houses and killing people, the world is really changing too fast. One second it was still a turtle in the urn, and the next second it was already the king of victory.

Nighthawk sighed heavily, stepped on the bright red dirt on the ground, and walked towards the main hall step by step.

The main hall was extremely magnificent, and when he got closer, Nighthawk suddenly felt a sense of self-insignificance. Compared with the Forbidden City, the capital that I have seen, although it is not as splendid as that, it is magnificent. But it's a little more imposing, magnificent, and if you want to describe it, it's big! A very tall main hall.

The palace is distinctly Han and Tang style, and the whole palace is perched high on a platform. The undulating bluestone steps represent supreme authority. The green brick cornices are magnificent.

I don't know what kind of person Matsumoto's ancestors were, and they were able to build such a magnificent building, so they weren't afraid that the authorities would take his life.

Nighthawk and his party carried their guns, cautiously, and climbed the steps step by step, slowly moving towards the gate of the main hall.

The ground paved with fine white jade shines with a warm light, the distant mist seems to shroud the unreal palace, the phoenix is ready to fly on the cornices carved from sandalwood, and the wall panels made of floating windows and jade carved from green tiles. A qiē is telling people that the owner here is very extraordinary.

Ascending the steps, twenty-four large red pillars are neatly arranged, and the top of the column is carved and painted, which is beautiful.

The vermilion gate sets off the snow-white palace wall, which is bizarre. Behind the gate, the marble floor is illuminated with colours, making you feel as if you are in a dream.

The huge palace, there is no one at the door, the nighthawk does not dare to slack off, carefully observing the surroundings, with Matsumoto's vicious character, he will not let them go so lightly.

But there was no sound around at all, Nighthawk thought to himself, even if people died, the dozens of guys standing on the city wall, after seeing the building fall and the gunshot, even if they climbed over, why there was no movement at all now, Nighthawk was very puzzled, but since people don't come to trouble you, it is impossible for him to turn around and drag people to beat him, isn't that cheap.

With doubts, they stepped into the magnificent temple.

The first feeling of entering the door is that it is still only big, this hall is a bit exaggerated, 20 meters high, at least occupies a range of 100 acres, but the whole hall is empty, only the swords, guns, swords, halberds and tables, chairs and benches placed on the surrounding walls can show its former glory.

Nighthawk looked around the hall that could have opened a supermarket, and his eyes moved slowly. Suddenly, his eyes stopped moving, and then he stared at the end of the hall, where a man was sitting on his knees.

He just sat there expressionlessly, staring playfully at these intruding uninvited guests, and there was even a smile on the corner of his mouth, which was a contemptuous smile.

Nighthawk looked at the mysterious person who was not in danger except for the knife on his leg, holding a gun, and slowly leaned in.

"You're Matsumoto?" Walking five meters in front of the mysterious man, Nighthawk stopped and asked suspiciously. In the end, it was so easy to see this number one goal that had been extremely mysterious and wanted to control them to death many times, and Nighthawk couldn't help but wonder if this qiē was really there.

Matsumoto smiled, and did not directly answer Nighthawk's question: "You Shina people are really good, and many of them have come here, if you have heavenly help, it is better to say that your luck is really good." ”

"It's not our luck, but your luck is exhausted, and there is an old saying in the Celestial Empire, which says that if you do too much injustice, you will kill yourself. It should be a perfect portrayal of you, and today, I will send it to you as a eulogy. Nighthawk politely retorted Matsumoto's words.

"Oni no Maru is a good helper, but sometimes he just doesn't understand that life may not necessarily be exchanged for a qiē. Maybe it's just in the white Lang waste, if he can break out of the window, at this moment, you are not so lucky. Matsumoto was still talking to himself, ignoring Nighthawk's provocation.

Come to think of it, if Oninomaru hadn't been so unlucky at the time, slashing at Nighthawk's magazine, then at least it would have created a mess for them. Then, he was running through the window, and the guards below would not only focus on the gate because of the fire, they would be more vigilant, and maybe the Nighthawk would all die inside.

Nighthawk smiled indifferently and said sarcastically: "It's a pity that there is no if in the world, some people are arrogant and arrogant, and they don't take others in their eyes at all, and in the end, there are no bones left, which is simply to blame." If there were so many ifs in the world, I am afraid that our positions would be reversed today. ”

Nighthawk is a pearl, although he is scolding the Oni no Maru, but at the same time, he also wraps Matsumoto into it.

Matsumoto laughed, his expression was relaxed, surrounded by everyone with guns, adding a bit of heroism, although the position is different, and he is an enemy of life and death, Nighthawk has to admire his courage.

After laughing for a while, it seemed that he felt that enough was enough, and there were not so many ridiculous things, Matsumoto slowly calmed down, and said softly: "I think my Matsumoto family has been in business for 500 years, with outstanding military achievements and meritorious achievements, even when I am down, I can turn the tide and help the building to fall." In 500 years, there has never been a time when an outsider's enemy has been able to set foot in this mighty temple.

It seems that it is really a good time. I, Ichiro Matsumoto, am really an unworthy descendant, and I have corrupted the inheritance left by my ancestors to such an extent that the lowly people of China can show off their power in front of their ancestors. Hehe, the Mighty Palace, it has become a place where the people of China are mighty, it is really a place to make people. As he spoke, a few tears slid down his cheeks and splashed to the ground with a crisp sound.

Nighthawk listened to him so miserable that it seemed to blame himself and his last words.

Nighthawk sighed in his heart, but said in his mouth: "I knew this was the case, why bother in the first place." ”

Matsumoto raised his head sharply, the tears in his eyes were gone, replaced by a sharp light, like a treasure knife, cold and cold.

He said slowly, "Do you think I'm going to be vulnerable enough to be at your mercy? Hehe, no way. I, the samurai of the Matsumoto family, will not tarnish my reputation in the hands of you filthy Shina people. He slammed into the body, and the Nighthawks quickly raised their guns, and there was a loud noise, and they all aimed at Matsumoto, as long as he moved slightly, they immediately shot him.

Matsumoto smiled: "Shina, don't be too nervous, don't your friends want it?" With that, the Nighthawk in front of him fell silent for a short time, and he slowly stepped aside, pointing not far behind him.

Monroe was sitting in a chair with her head tilted to the side. He was tied with a cow tendon rope. He didn't move, as if he was completely unconscious.

"What have you done to her, brute," the stabber roared angrily, raising his gun to kill Matsumoto.

But the barrel of the gun was so heavy that he couldn't lift it, the military thorn raised his blood-red eyes, and Nighthawk was pressing his gun hard, and said without looking back: "Don't be impulsive, there is someone next to Monroe, do you want her to die?" Matsumoto laughed: "Yes, don't move if you don't want her to die, but you're wrong, I'm the only one here, I just put a lot of explosives under her chair." It's not much, just enough to blow her out of this roof, and the detonator, hehe, here I am. Raising a black cube that looked like a remote control in his hand, Matsumoto smirked.

"What do you want?" Nighthawk doesn't talk nonsense either, he knows that people like Matsumoto will never make an unconditional exchange, and politicians are always the most cunning.

"Well, this attitude is good, in this way, let me tell you a story, and you will understand after listening." Without waiting for Nighthawk's response, Matsumoto had already started talking slowly.

"In the forties of the last century, my father went to China as a great imperial minister. It's a pity that he went late and didn't catch up with any big wars, and in order to protect this noble son of the Matsumoto family, the military department arranged him in a relatively comfortable injury, away from the dangers brought by those wars. "My father was very unhappy about this, he was a great samurai. A samurai will shed blood on the battlefield and serve his great motherland, but these are things that those bastards in the military department will never understand.

One day, a general invited his father to drink and have fun with him. On the way back, I passed a small alley, yes. Shanghai is called a small alley.

The general suddenly had a whim, he wanted to kill some people to have fun and relieve his boredom. Matsumoto said it very easily, and the nighthawks who listened to it with that inconsequential look tensed their nerves. Although decades have passed, it still sounds indignant and sad at the moment.

Matsumoto didn't care about Nighthawk's expressions, and continued, "So, the general ordered his adjutant to get out of the car, and then told his father to take 30 steps forward and 30 steps to the left and right to stop.

No one knew what he meant, but it was difficult to ask, so he could only walk forward.

Seeing the three people who had stopped after walking 30 steps, the general laughed, and suddenly ordered a group of soldiers around him to kill everyone in this circle, and there was no one left.

Gunshots rang out quickly, and there were wailing and crying begging for mercy everywhere. But the general gave an order, as a soldier can only obey, although his father is also a soldier, he is not this kind of soldier who kills innocent people, he is a bloody man, and immediately stood up to stop the general.

Because of his status, although he was only a small young man, the general still gave him face, as long as he could give the general a reasonable explanation, the general would stop the massacre.

My father was in a dilemma, how could he save the thousands of surviving people here? He's not a saint, he's not a giver, he's just trying to do what a man should do.

So he said loudly to the general, pick out the 20 most capable of fighting among these people, and my father will kill these 20 people, if you can't kill them, then what will the general do. Speaking of this, he looked deeply at the terrifying Nighthawk, his eyes full of murderous intent.