The little carpenter crossed the high mountain of Han Baojian, but he would never be able to use the sword technique that Nalan Xiaoshan was as fast as he was back then.

In the little carpenter's heart, Nalan Hill is no longer a mountain, but has become a monument, or a twinkling star overhead.

It's a shame.

But even so, it didn't matter, because he finally confirmed one thing to the world.

Han Baojian is not as good as Nalan Xiaoshan.

From now on, no one will mention the words of "the north hill, the south holds the sword".

Han Baojian, he is just a simple thief, at most he is more skilled in swordsmanship, whether it is cultivation or personality, he can never be compared with Nalan Xiaoshan.

Both before and after death.

The little carpenter wiped the blood from the old snow and put it in his arms.

Then he looked at Han Baojian, who had fallen into calm in front of him.

The black sword in Han Baojian's hand was cut off.

The tip of the sword fell to the ground, and the hilt of the sword was tightly grasped in his hand.

He clung to it as hard as he could, as if he could grasp the fast-passing life if he grasped the sword in his hand.

Then he looked up and looked at the little carpenter earnestly once more.

The two looked at each other again, but no spark appeared.

Han Baojian's eyes were scattered, and after a long while, he gathered together, and the panic, panic, and fear disappeared in a flash, but in the end, it turned into relief and calm......

No one can be strong and proud for a lifetime, just like a banquet, there will be a moment when it will disperse.

His end has come.

No one knew what Han Baojian was thinking at the end of his life, and even the little carpenter standing opposite him couldn't read it from his eyes.

After the two looked at each other for a while, Han Baojian grinned: "What a fast knife." ”

As soon as his mouth opened, blood gushed out and slid down the corners of his mouth.

The little carpenter looked at him and said calmly, "It's not as fast as Nalan Xiaoshan. ”

He had seen Nalan Xiaoshan's last knife, and in all fairness, the knife he had just now was really two grades worse than Nalan Xiaoshan.

Han Baojian's left face twitched, and he muttered vaguely, "Hmm......"

Without saying a word, he fell to the ground, a large amount of blood flowing from his chest and spreading.

The little carpenter didn't know if Han Baojian's "um" was in agreement with his words, or if it meant something else.

But none of that matters anymore.

The winner never speculates what the loser thinks.

He was the same.

Looking at Han Baojian on the ground, there was no longer half of his breath, and the little carpenter didn't have much joy.

He's not a man who likes to kill.

If he hadn't been forced to be in a hurry, the little carpenter would even be willing to try to communicate and reconcile with Han Baojian, instead of drawing his sword against each other as he did now, until he was born and died.