Time goes back an hour.

Ten kilometers west of the broken bridge, under a viaduct, there is a place of yin and tide that no one cares about, and the ground is littered with bricks and all kinds of smelly garbage bags, and the air is filled with a smell of shame, and from time to time wild dogs and wild cats are scurrying around.

Li He had just finished sorting out a pile of garbage and piling it aside, the uncomfortable smell dissipated a little, which made his weak and slender arm slightly sore, he patted the dirty and smelly purple cloth robe, walked to an enamel basin with gravure marks and abrasion marks and washed his hands, and then came to the temporary bed made of cardboard and plastic tarpaulin, picked up the small bottle on the ground with his fingers, took a sip, the spicy and pungent sensation accompanied by the warmth passed through his throat at the same time, he exhaled the wine intoxicatedly, and looked at the flower field in the distance with a complicated face.

As a heroic spirit, when it is in a crystallized state, it needs to rely on the self-source of the magician, of course, there is no distance to bind it.

In the half month that Li He left the host, he worked at sunrise every day, took care of it little by little, and gradually turned the garbage dump into a field of flowers, although it was not as large as the host's classroom, but there was still a lot of open space to be developed, and it was far from the time when the flowers bloomed.

There was a knife-like stabbing pain in his chest, one by one, which intensified with the arrival of the rest time.

Li He smiled bitterly, poured some of the wine on his chest, and pressed it in vain, a gust of wind blew, hot and cool intertwined, and the poet took a long breath and drank again, his throat trembled slightly, and he was intoxicated by the pain that spread to his body.

Although it is a young body, the handsome long hair can't hide the gray temples, which is probably the reason for the previous life.

He regained a hint of anger and looked at a woman standing in the distance.

The woman was wearing a light blue dress, and her figure was undoubtedly that of a girl, but both her demeanor and expression had the calmness of a mature woman, and her eyes were coldly pierced in the poet's face.

"See you again, Your Highness the Princess." Li He beckoned to her.

"Stand up, Nagayoshi."

The poet shook his head slightly and remained silent, dragging his slightly drunk body and slowly standing up straight.

"Hehe, the pain from being stabbed by you last time is still there, and it will be better with wine." He shook the bottle.

"Seeing you treat yourself like this, won't Su Meng feel uncomfortable?" The woman approached and stopped at a distance of ten meters.

"She knows you're here to kill the despicable?"

"Naturally, I won't tell her," said the woman, "and you don't know how worried she is about you."

"It's just a matter of worry," the poet laughed lightly, "and in this world we are but beings for amusement and hunting." He pointed to the blood on the ground not far away, "Of course, none of this is mine."

"Otherwise, you can try to earn respect and immunity." The woman said.

"None of this is what I'm after." Li He shook his head, took out a small-screen mobile phone and a stack of banknotes from his arms, took out a rag from the cardboard, wrapped the object properly and put it aside, "Princess, please return these to the little master."

The woman was silent, revealing a hint of displeasure.

"Look at the evening sun," Li He pointed to the crumbling golden yellow in the sky, walked to the side, and slowly walked to the clearing, "Your Royal Highness Princess, you say, why are we fighting?"

"If last time it was unintentional," said the woman, "this time it may have been arranged."

"What if the contemptible can't trigger?"

"Oh?" The woman smiled complicatedly, "Nagayoshi, don't you want to die just like that?"

"Stimulate the fighting spirit of the despicable? It's futile, princess," Li He's pupils slowly cooled, "If it's for the sake of the little master, it's okay for a contemptible person to commit suicide."

"Why don't you take Wu Hook and collect Guanshan Fifty Prefectures," the woman laughed, "How could that young man with full ambition beg for death so much?"

"I think you feel the same way about choosing to commit suicide for the sake of someone you care about." Li He said casually, "I guess it's the general named Meng Yi?"

"Impudent!" The woman suddenly shouted, assuming a posture of battle, "Draw your sword!"

Li He let out a long sigh and stretched out his hand indifferently, "Lady first."

"Northern Desert Frost!" The woman shouted like this, and a dark blue ancient sword was summoned out in her hand.

"Ziyanfei." The poet said lightly, the cuffs of the robe were swept up by the air current, and a Tang sword appeared with purple light.

"Judging from the airflow of the sword body, your swordsmanship seems to be average." The woman said indifferently.

"Fusu!" Li He shouted vigorously, "Even if you fall here, the contemptible person still has an oath!"

His eyes lit up with purple rage, and he pointed his sword firmly at the woman's forehead.

"Very well," the woman smiled with satisfaction, "I guess that's why you're fighting for."

The poet clenched hard, and the purple sand poured into the sword body, and he was about to leap, but found that Fusu had arrived in front of him!

So fast!

The blue ice pick struck at his chest, and Li He dodged to one side, his center of gravity was unstable, and he swung out a purple sand.

"Knort!" With a bang, the two swords met.

The sand swept the ice upwards, and a pillar of blue light pierced the sky.

"Boom!"

The viaduct next to him was torn apart by pillars of light, more than a dozen trucks and cars evaporated in the air, tires emitting pungent smoke, mottled and burnt car shells, and fragments of human corpses fell one after another, and the vehicles that did not brake fell down with the falling stones.

The two stood still in perfect understanding, waiting for the survivors to crash through the car door and flee in a panic.

"Look, princess," Li He sneered, "is this the benevolence you seek?"

"That's in the past." Fusu slammed his sword to the ground and responded without explanation.

Half god and half demon, about to describe the woman in front of him, Li He frowned and thought, the superiority of swordsmanship has long been separated, and even the fighting spirit has lost a lot.

Only one together, the victory and defeat have been divided, Li He turned around to take the wine, ignored Fusu's eyes that fell on his back, took a sip, and sprinkled a few drops on his chest, so that the residual pain proved that he was still alive for the last time.

The pain bloomed around his body like a flower, and Li He raised his sword again, pointing from the bottom up, his wrist clenched, and this posture was extremely useful for blocking the attack in front of him.

Fusu leaped again, the knee-length light blue skirt fluttered in the wind, and when Li He came back to his senses, the woman was already on top of her head, frozen and piercing her left shoulder.

Facing the chill of rushing to the top, he wanted to use his waist force to sweep, Li He suddenly smiled, pointed his sword in the sky, and chanted slowly,

"Carry the sunset that gave me, dance the wind and sand of Asakusa, and the frost that the sword cannot penetrate, and break my bones and blood!"

The Northern Desert Frost ran through the poet's shoulder bone and heart from top to bottom, and Fusu drew his sword out of thin air and landed behind the poet.

Under the afterglow of the doomsday that was about to fade, a blood-red arc was sprinkled.

The poet smiled lightly and looked the last of his eyes on the field of flowers behind him.

It was originally his gift to Su Meng.

"There's no regret to have such a sunset with you, but it's a pity that it never belongs to us." The poet said.

"Changji, don't be presumptuous," Fusu threw out a sword flower, swinging out the warmth on the blood trough, "The sky, like history, has never belonged to anyone."