The sky, which had been clear, suddenly darkened.

Dongfang Yi's eyes froze, and the change in the sky naturally had nothing to do with him, but at this moment, a cold male voice came from behind everyone.

"The auspicious time has come? So why didn't anyone invite us? ”

Ying Baoyue looked at Li Ji standing in front of her, her pupils shrank, and she turned her head quietly.

The voice was as if it had been quenched in the ice, a voice that was completely unfamiliar to her, but with an accent that was familiar to her.

Accents that do not belong within the Great Wall.

"Big brother?" At this time, Murong Feixing, who was standing in the back position, found that his brother's breath had changed drastically when he heard this voice.

Not everyone knows what's going on. The cold wind blew, and everyone's eyes widened, and they were stunned to see a group of people quietly coming up on the mountain road that was already empty.

A group of men in white.

The faces of the cultivators of Hou Liao were a little ugly, they knew very well that all the Hou Liao people had already climbed to the top of the mountain, and the group of people who suddenly appeared were not Hou Liao people. But this group of people actually wore sacrificial clothes of the same color as Hou Liao.

"Who? Do you understand the rules......"

The disgruntled chatter of the cultivators on the top of the mountain suddenly paused, staring at the patterns of the sacrificial robes on the group of people who slowly walked by.

Those people's sacrificial clothes were the same snow-white as Hou Liao, but the difference was that a wolf's head was embroidered on the chest of each person's sacrificial clothes.

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The people of the White Dog God.

A scream flew from the crowd at the top of the mountain, but the next moment the man covered his mouth.

"How could it be...... It's really here......"

"I don't look at it...... I'm going down the mountain......"

There was a commotion in the crowd watching the ceremony, and the ceremonial officials of Dongwu turned pale, but the ceremonial officials in charge of the viewing team immediately stepped forward to appease them and let them calm down for a while, but the next moment there was a suppressed frightened voice from the crowd, "How can we calm down?" Who would have thought that the Sijon people would really come! ”

The people of Sijon.

The name was like a spell, and the expressions of all the people present in the six countries stiffened the moment it was drunk.

Ying Baoyue's fists clenched slightly under her sleeves, and she watched as the group of cultivators dressed in the white wolf sacrifice robes she was familiar with climbed the ladder step by step and walked to the front of the altar.

There were probably only about twenty people in this group, all of them young men who looked to be in their teens and twenties, and at least five of the ten people wore hideous iron masks. The leader was a tall young man, he did not wear a mask, had a pair of amber eyes, high eyebrows and deep eyes, and was the standard Xirong royal family appearance.

But just then, a man in an iron mask who was following the boy suddenly raised his head and glanced at her in the crowd.

Facing the pair of familiar blue eyes, Ying Baoyue only felt that the blood on her body cooled down for a moment.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty......"

At this time, a shout came from the top of the mountain road, and I saw a group of bloody ceremonial officials and the Dongwu forbidden army rushing up from behind the group of Xirong people, looking at the Xirong people who had already reached the top of the mountain with a desperate expression.

Seeing the wounds on those people and the blood-dripping scimitar on the waist of the Xijon people, everyone could guess what had happened.

The reason why the Xijon people were able to appear here quietly was probably because they forcibly broke through the checkpoint at the bottom of the mountain, and injured all the people who came up to report the news, so they could only follow them.

Seeing this scene, Zhao Duren on the second floor of the altar slowly stood up.

Li Ji easily opened Yingyue's hand.

The young man from Xijon at the head wanted to go to the altar, but at this moment, a long sword stood in front of him.

It was a quaint long sword, dull and heavy, but it was cold, there was no sword grid, and the hilt was covered with bronze rust.

And seeing this sword, the faces of the Dongwu cultivators present changed.

"Juque! It's actually a giant sword! ”

"Did the National Teacher pass this sword to Zhaohuajun?"

Juque, Ying Baoyue's heart jumped when she heard this. Juque is the sword of Dongfang Yi, the national teacher of Eastern Wu, and it is also cast by Ou Yezi, a swordsmith of the previous dynasty, and the famous sword of the same specification as the Tai'a sword and the Yue Wang sword, and is one of the eight famous swords.

If Tai'a Sword was once the treasure of Southern Chu, then Juque was the treasure of Eastern Wu.

Juque is the sword of the Eastern Wu National Teacher, but it is not in the hands of Dongfang Yi at this time.

Looking at Li Ji, who was standing in front of the road with a sword, blocking the way to the altar, the face of the young man led by the Xirong people changed, and he finally stopped. 噺8.(1)祌文全文快速んττρs:/м.χ八(一)zщ.còм/

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief in their hearts, but the next moment they saw that the corner of the tall young man in the lead suddenly showed a meaningful smile on the corner of his mouth, "Zhaohua?" Long time no see. ”

It's still that weird accent, but the familiarity of the words makes everyone's faces change.

Has Zhao Huajun met this Xirong person?

"I don't remember meeting you," Li Ji said lightly.

"It's really affectionate," Ying Baoyue looked at the tall young man's gaze and turned to Ji Jiashu beside her, "But it's okay not to remember, after all, we only met once from a distance three years ago, and you and Chunhua shouldn't have seen my face." ”

Ying Baoyue felt that Ji Jiashu's aura beside her changed instantly.

It is an uncontrollable surprise.

Three years ago.

mentioned Zhao Huajun and Chunhuajun at the same time, and with such a familiar tone, the faces of some of the onlookers around turned pale.

"Five years ago, could it be that the six sons of the Warring States period gathered?"

"Sixth son? Could it be that this man is ......?"

The expressions of the cultivators and the family members who watched the ceremony changed when they saw the tall young man.

At the same time, I saw Zhaohuajun and Chunhuajun, and when it came to the reunion three years ago, they were still from Xirong.

Then the identity of this person is already coming out.

"Could it be...... Is he the ghost Huajun? ”

Yinghuyue's pupils shrank.

The most mysterious and unwilling to admit the six sons of the Warring States, Xirong Ghost Huajun.

She did hear that the Xirong people who broke into Dongwu this time to participate in the middle-level ceremony were led by this so-called Ghost Huajun, but for some reason, at this time, looking at the Xirong young man standing in front of Li Ji with his chest up, she had a strange feeling in her heart.

"You're the ghost?" Li Ji's expression remained unchanged, and he clenched the long sword in his hand and asked lightly.

"Exactly," the tall young man smiled, looked at Zhao Duren who was standing at the top and smiled slightly, and arched his hand nonchalantly, "Xiao Wang hasn't introduced himself yet, has he?" ”

"Speaking of which, my father and the King of Eastern Wu are still acquaintances," the boy laughed.

Zhao Duren's eyes were heavy and he stared at the people under the altar.

The young man took a step back, performed a Xirong etiquette, and looked up at Li Ji and Zhao Duren, the corners of his mouth already retracted a smile.

Looking at the light in his eyes, the cultivators who were close around him shivered.

"I am the Twelve Zhai Kings of Xirong," the young man's eyes were cold and cruel, like a young male wolf on the snowy region.

"Ghost Huajun, pure in the night."

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