Arrows rained down, and after the loud whistling of the arrows, there were countless smaller but more piercing sounds. They pierced, followed closely by the arrows, and in an instant, covered the entire sky, encompassing the sky in its embrace, and fell, the arrows rained down mercilessly towards the place where the Yellow Turban soldiers must pass.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah......" screams continued one after another, and the soldiers of the Yellow Turban Army who reinforced the battlefield did not suddenly realize that the enemy still had archers until the moment when the arrows were approaching. But it was too late, and they could only let out a miserable howl and tightly cover the bleeding wounds, while some people couldn't even scream, and were pierced through the throat by an arrow, killing instantly.

The difference between luck and misfortune is only the difference between life and death. After all, the lucky ones were a little more lucky, they were not killed by an arrow, the arrow left a wound on the rest of their body, and it was fiercely embedded in it, and the wound was still bleeding. This is unfortunate, in fact, they are the most unfortunate people, in this era, in the Yellow Turban Army, injury is equal to death.

There are no military doctors, and if there is, it will not be their turn. If you don't have medicine, you can't afford to use it, even if you have water, you have to exchange it for war merits, food or all kinds of items. So in comparison, the soldiers of the Yellow Turban Army who died in an instant actually seemed to be a little luckier, pain is a momentary thing, and after that moment, there is no need to endure the pain anymore. Only a handful of these wounded survived, and the vast majority had to die in the pain of their wounds. Infection, inflammation, blood loss, these things were not a problem at all in the Tianyuan era, but in this era, they are devils who can kill more on the battlefield than the enemy.

Screaming, covering the wounds, these momentary actions are all subconscious actions. After reacting, no matter how painful the pain was, they had to continue to speed up their pace and charge. Because of the slowness, they have been pushed down by the other soldiers who charged forward, and fell on the solid ground, and then a pair of big feet trampled on it. In such a momentum, in the tide of charging, no soldier dares to stay, only forward, forward, can have the hope of life.

Even if it is death, it must be next, not immediately.

He swung his sword, and the ancient ingot knife sliced through the air, and the blade flashed with light, creating a perfect silver swirl, and bringing out a trail of blood. It is like a pen and ink swaying freely, scattering, and like a fine splash of water, a little red crystal blooming.

From time to time, liquid splattered on him, warm and rapidly cooling, bringing with it an endless blood-red field. The fishy smell spreads between the mouth and nose, and the sweet and astringent taste ferments in the mouth, but soon after it flies out with saliva.

Sun Jian's eyes were stained with a layer of red, which was left over from the killing of many of the Yellow Turban soldiers he had just killed, and little by little, they gathered and splattered, becoming a point that blurred his vision enough, as if to disturb him. It's just that apart from everything turning blood red, it didn't bring any obstacle to Sun Jian, on the contrary, he became more violent, the red field, the red knife, the red blood, more and more profound.

"Suffer death!" There was a soldier of the Yellow Turban Army not far away, and when Sun Jian swung his knife, he threw the spear in his hand at him, and the head of the spear flashed with sharp light.

Sun Jian's eyes did not move, the falling ancient ingot knife did not change, dancing in his palm, maintaining the momentum of the fall and moving sideways to the left, the cold blood-colored blade cutting through the almost defenseless neck. He seemed to have eyes on his back, and when the spear was approaching, his slender left arm grabbed it with his backhand, twisted his waist, turned around, and threw the spear in the direction it came.

"Forehead ......" The soldier who threw the spear let out a muffled grunt, his eyes full of doubt and disbelief.

At the same time, the sight in front of him quickly regressed, and the spear pierced through his chest, the tip of the spear peeking through, and dragged it out violently. He was "flying", and in the process of flying, he also ran into many Yellow Turban soldiers who stood in his way, knocking them to the ground.

Finally, the soldier stopped, but his eyes had long since lost their sparkle. Behind him, there was a struggling Yellow Turban soldier, the spear tightly connecting the bodies of the two men, and the unstoppable blood splashed out, soaking the ground beneath his feet.

He rode his horses, and the horses galloped in the sea of people, rampage, and everywhere he went, they were rolled with blood-colored waves. Forming an army alone, even if he was out of touch with the soldiers and far away, Sun Jian's cold gaze still did not change, he knew that they would always be able to keep up, and they would follow the bloody route he had cut out. So he just has to keep moving forward, forward.

"Huh!" He came across a wall, and the wall roared, and spears peeked out of the wall of people in front of him, and the heads of the spears flashed coldly towards the body and horses.

The ancient ingot knife in his hand slashed at these stabbing spears, and with a "bell", the head of the spear was broken by the roots, and one by one it was broken on the ground, leaving only the yellow turban soldiers with spears looking at each other, looking at the spears in their hands in a daze, with a look of surprise and sluggishness.

"Kill!" The rest of the soldiers frantically rushed towards Sun Jian, because Sun Jian had already fallen off his horse, even though he had just cut off the spear that was stabbed in front of him at the last moment, but there was a spear next to him that stabbed coldly, stabbing the war horse he was riding, causing him to be frightened and start to run wildly.

At this time, Sun Jian had already jumped off the horse, for him, horses were not necessary, and the ancient ingot knife in his hand was not a long soldier, and he could not firmly hold the war horses with each other. Therefore, the so-called shooting a man first and shooting a horse does not actually have any effect on him.

The corners of Zai's mouth were slightly upturned, facing the incoming enemy army, alone, but there was no fear on his face. Like a fierce tiger, it falls into the midst of a flock of sheep, even though the sheep have sharp horns, but they are not afraid.

He rushed forward, the surging wind brought a blood-colored trajectory, the whereabouts of the ancient ingot knife, the knife light is extremely simple, but it can always bring the greatest damage. The clouds are from the dragon, the wind is from the tiger, Sun Jian is the tiger that jumps out of the wind, and the tiger goes down the mountain and is unstoppable.

However, he stopped abruptly and muttered, "It's finally here." ”

In front of him, a dense rain of arrows was falling suddenly, right in front of Sun Jian, just a little bit, just enough to cover him together. Looking back, before he knew it, he had broken through to such a distance in the Yellow Turban Army formation alone, and had broken away from his own army.

But at the moment, he was still not afraid.

(End of chapter)