Sword, fast; Knife, ruthless.

The Desert Sword Emperor had never seen such a fast sword, like a fierce wind that had never stopped in the desert, whistling past and devouring life, leaving a cut on his body. The Scar of the Wind had never seen such a ruthless knife, harder than the Demon Heart, more ruthless than the Demon Heart. In the face of the undefensible Demon Flow Sword, the Desert Sword Emperor was very natural, as if he wanted to open his eyes in the morning, gave up his defense, and swung the most ruthless sword.

The staggered figures flashed, and only the exploding blood moistened the dry desert air, bringing a disgusting fishy sweetness. Ten swords for one sword, each of the ten swords is far from the heart, throat, and kidneys...... They were only a little bit closer, and the knife made the Traces of the Wind's chest already drenched in blood, and it was impossible to see where the flesh was.

"A precise and decisive blow, you frightened the Demon Flow Sword." The muscles contracted, like a clown's big mouth slowly closing, although it was not specialized in the body, but the demon clan was a demon after all, and when the hot blood of the Desert Sword Emperor was dripping out of the blood hole, the body of the Wind Scar had already reacted instinctively.

"Even if you don't ask, I'll give you your name, remember, the name of the person who killed you is called Demon Flow Sword Wind Scarf." The transcendent posture of standing without holding his hands, the extremely cautious immortal swordsman's body with a slight bow, and the non-trivial standing posture are exactly the starting posture of the Demon Flow Sword.

"Noise, fighting, you must have the consciousness of fighting, when the weapon is displayed, these superfluous things should not exist." Wounded beasts are more terrifying than normal beasts, especially since this greedy wolf-like knife man still keeps his senses.

"Sword and Blood!" "A Thousand Shadows in the Sky!" The shadow of the sword, the sparse sword light. Because it is fast, the sword qi remains in shape, and because it is fine, it becomes a fantasy.

The news of your death came from the wind, but you were the last person to know, although the grass was not long ago, but the wind scar swordsmanship at the peak of the kendo in the future has already been seen, but the extreme speed has never been able to get rid of the cruel balance. On the left side of the balance, there is the banality of reason, and on the right side of the balance, there is the madness of recklessness. Every knife of the Desert Sword Emperor is like the dividing line between the two, with an extreme unreasonableness, just right stuck on the cusp of the wind trace.

A pot of water, taken off at the moment when heated to 100 degrees, a piece of firewood, split with the least force, without a trace of superfluity, this is called the golden mean. And the Desert Sword Emperor is the avenue of life.

Simple stabs, in the hands of the Demon Flow Sword, there seems to be a thousand changes, no need to defend, no need to think too much, as long as the speed is blessed to the limit. However, just a moment before the stab, it was as if the Wind Scar had deliberately collided with it, and the Desert Knife had already aimed at the fragile neck of the Demon Flow Sword.

The soft sound of "poof" is another exchange of injuries. Eleven stabs, one slash.

"Amazing." "It's a pity for me." Same vocalizations, different intonations, same emotions. The Demon Flow Sword has never been so serious, and it has never been so regrettable. The opponent who was so amazed by the demon was not in a fair battle after bathing in incense and carefully saluting swords, but in this room full of the so-called breath of life and the diapers of human children.

What's even more a pity for the swordsman is that, just like the red glow in the sky, although the Desert Sword Emperor is still in his prime, it is just a round of red sunset, the last afterglow, the sword with the extra scars of the wind, stabbing out not the scars of the wind, but the years. Although the fiery clouds on the horizon are brilliant, they will eventually return to darkness.

"Well, then, rejoice, amazing swordsman, your life will end under the sword of the Wind Trace, and not die of old age on the sick kang."

"No, the Lone King doesn't have the romance of the so-called swordsman and swordsman, the Lone King just wants to die in bed one day, and watch a group of people cry before their souls drift away." As he spoke, the index finger of the Desert Sword Emperor's right hand shot out in succession, stopping the wound that did not stop.

"Where's your pride?" The Scars of the Wind are furious!

"You don't understand, young man."

"Pretending to be a void, a trace of the wind! The magic sword is invisible! "Angered by the disdain of the Desert Sword Emperor, the killing intent of the Wind Trace has been decided." Hahaha, phew, the scars of the wind, but you're not the only one in the wind! The Desert Sword Emperor smiled wildly, and laughed out a mouthful of blood. Picked up the desert knife with his backhand and roared past.

The Scar of the Wind has never felt so strange to the wind, his closest comrade-in-arms is like a fierce horse in bondage, and he is a helpless cavalryman. It's not that the wind is slow, the wind is still strong, but there seems to be sand and dust rising in the wind, hitting the face of the wind scar, tearing out the bloody holes.

If the Trace of the Wind is a swordfish in the water, then he has an undercurrent. Tossing and turning, the perfect unity of elegance and speed, the scar of the wind cleverly avoided the invisible knife momentum, but could not avoid the pair of miserable green eyes that had been locked in the vital point. The wind tells him that the killing machine is near.

"Wow, wow, wow, wow......" A howl pierced the wind, and also saved his father's enemy, and the Desert Sword Emperor, who couldn't help but worry, couldn't help but slow down a little, the sound of the knife in the wind was mixed with father's love, and it was not pure. Scar of the Wind caressed the new knife wound and suddenly felt ashamed. So he got out of anger. Angry at his own mistakes, angry at the betrayal of the wind, and angry at his own rescue, he tore open three knife wounds. The Scars of the Wind do not need the concerns of others, do not rely on the mercy of the enemy, and the Scars of the Wind will never take advantage of the enemy.

The anger of the wind, the helplessness of the knife, and the killing moves formed with the help of the wind scars, the Desert Sword Emperor can no longer use them independently. The balance of victory and defeat will not be tilted again by luck.

"Little loser!" The reckless attack of the Desert Sword Emperor, whose true qi was close to exhaustion, decisively detonated the anger of the Wind Scar, one seemed to be crazy, the other was like a demon, and the sword that had lost the discipline was sonorous, but the sad reality of the fist afraid of being young and strong still would not change because of his father's love, and he staggered back, and the desert knife supported the master's no longer majestic and young body.

And the Traces of the Wind, on the other hand, are ready to reap the fruits of victory, and before that, of course, to give this venerable opponent a glorious death, although he should have won, although he did not want to.

Maybe the Scar of the Wind doesn't want to give, if possible, the Scar of the Wind wants to have a fair fight to the death, but unfortunately, this is not his own personal matter, but the task given to him by Zhutian, the matter of his friends, the Scar of the Wind has always gone all out.

"Respectable opponent, Sword Demon Flow!" "Crunch" is over!

The scars of the wind are like the wind, but not the wind, the wind does not need to rely on, and the traces of the wind do, when the sword and demon flow make a move, the moment the floor touches the force, it will shatter, and a sword stabs out, there is no turning back, and the scar of the wind has been held by the god of death.

The recklessness of the previous enemy turned out to be the last fight of the cunning wolf king, and in the fight just now, the floor on that side had been shattered, but it was delicately maintained by the Desert Sword Emperor at a critical point that was broken but not broken.

The ghost sent the gods, perhaps the desire to survive, or perhaps the remnants of the previous anger, the scar of the wind shifted a little, only a little, to the small, fragile pink ball. Maybe this inaccurate sword will kill him, or maybe it will only hurt his fingers, but a father will not gamble with his child's life, so the sword rage will not appear in the world after all.

There will never be a third chance. Exhausted, with three points of regret and six points of fear, the legendary king, the undefeated sword emperor, did not die under the crazy knife, but died in the wind sword, leaving only the crying child, as if crying.