The night is deep, so that every unlit scene appears a color.

Zhao Qian took a few more steps forward as if nothing had happened, but his body tensed as he approached the person.

"Whew!"

Getting closer.

There was a sound of the air being torn apart.

No, not at all.

Subconsciously took two steps back that he had prepared, and a cold wind blew through the door of the young man who returned late. The tip of the knife was on the tip of Zhao Qian's nose, too fast.

Such a word flashed in his mind, but the other party did not move. The two of them seem to form a still painting in a narrow alley at midnight.

After a long time, a light cough made the knifeman's body tremble, but the hand holding the knife did not move.

"Zhao Qian? Wild wolves? White pawns? ”

The man across from him asked. The voice was obviously piercing with the harshness of drinking too much, especially in Zhao Qian's ears.

A not-so-heavy smell of wine.

With a few rays of light shining from unknown directions, he still followed the knife to see the face of the guy in front of him, a middle-aged uncle with a scruffy beard. A cursory glance reveals that he hasn't taken care of himself for a long time.

A vest with exposed arms and a pair of unkempt suit pants. If you look closely, you can see that the knee area is still stained with a few bright reds that have not been wiped clean.

It's blood that hasn't dried yet.

"Yes."

With a nasal sound, Zhao Xiang took a step back and watched the other party follow up.

Can't see clearly.

Subconsciously took out the long sword that had been prepared long ago from the bag.

Obstruct!

"Dang!"

The vague shadow of the sword slashed against the metal scabbard of the longsword that was raised in an instant, and the sword had not yet been drawn.

Cold sweat broke out on his back.

The passive skill dynamic vision of the innate magic pattern on his back seemed to have no effect on the quick knife in the hand of the uncle opposite. Knives soon. Glancing at the arm of the guy holding the knife, it was impossible to tell the direction of his knife from the way he raised his arm.

Wind old summer.

This name and the nickname of the first knife in the mountain city flashed in his mind countless times, and now he somewhat understood the meaning of this name to the swordsman in front of him.

"Choke!"

Taking two more steps back, the other party's knife pulled out the long sword in Zhao Qian's hand, and let out a soft sound in the quiet alley. Maybe Feng Lao Xia's knife was too sharp, and it was directly owed into the gap.

"Ahem, you won't survive tonight, believe it or not."

Coughing and tossing aside the scabbard that hung from the knife, the uncle said, as if to tell someone an established fact. In fact, he had already said this to many people, and they were all dead. This is the self-confidence that a knife player should have, believing in his own knife and his own knife skills.

The metal scabbard slammed into the concrete floor somewhere outside the alleyway, making a few clanging sounds.

"I don't believe it."

Holding the sword, Zhao Qian raised his eyebrows, he was already sweating in his palms.

The other party didn't answer, and the cold light came in an instant.

The dark night was brightened.

Divide-Cut-Line -

Xiangjiang, the roof of a high-rise building.

A young man looked at the neon lights below, his face full of indifference.

I glanced around again, but there was no taller building than this one.

This is the most prosperous Balan Street in the whole of Xiangjiang, but there is no building taller than the one under the feet of young people. Those who are familiar with the waterway of the Xiangjiang River must know that there are no planes flying over Polan Street, because it is above the king's head, the city's no-fly zone.

This is both strength and rules.

"Two worlds."

The young man said, his words that he couldn't hear clearly, made a middle-aged man who was originally kneeling on the ground lower his head even more, and his head hit the ground. I didn't even dare to come out of the atmosphere.

"How much was lost."

Seeing that the middle-aged man didn't speak, he said again, as if it was impossible for other teams to make him frown in his life. Placid.

"No, no, it's not clear, the Flame Empress is still calculating."

"Who did that, you know?"

He turned to sit down on a wooden round stool behind him and took a sip of the water from the porcelain bowl on the table.

"I don't know anything else, but the only thing that can be determined at the moment is the Feng family and the ......"

"Which of the Feng family's worlds has the most inputs?"

The young man interrupted, the strong wind of the tall building made his immaculate white robe tremble, and the sword was held in his left hand and never left. In some ways, he was less of a man of power and more of a swordsman who stood out from the top.

"Terminator World."

The middle-aged man wiped the sweat that kept sliding on his face and said affirmatively. He had no doubt that if he couldn't answer the question again, the head of the Bai family, who had changed color from the outside world in front of him, would definitely kill him. No sword.

"Ruined."

Looking up, the man kneeling on the ground didn't understand what it meant. Because these two words contain too many lives and resources.

"It's the same as Journey to the West and Pirates of the Caribbean that we control."

"Yes!"

Without hesitation, he replied, and this person who seemed to outsiders to be beautiful got up from the ground and walked downstairs.

After taking a sip of water from a porcelain bowl, the young man looked at the brightly lit Xiangjiang behind him, where he had even reached the Himalayas. So for the game between snobbery, he has always had his own set of rules.

He doesn't care who got him, he just needs to clear what is in front of him. Or rather, he doesn't bother to pursue so many things, how many enemies are there, and who are they?

After all, these are just a sword.

Freemasonry in the United States, the Holy See in Russia, or the Poetry Society of the Continental Night?

One noun after another came out of his mind, his eyes flickering, and he didn't speak.

After a long time, when a few lights in the distance went out one after another, he reacted.

"How's it going over there?"

"Good." A line of water-stained handwriting appeared on the table where Bai Yunfei was sitting, Xu was worried that he was thinking too much, and another line of words appeared little by little, and the two words on it slowly dried out. Books.

"She went to Border City."

"Oh."

The sword was held in his hand, and the white-robed swordsman was more like he was muttering to himself.

The camera zoomed out and found that the place where he was sitting was clearly outside the door of a dilapidated cabin.

"Jingle bells."

The wind blows from the rooftop, making the wind chimes under the front eaves of the wooden house sound softly.

Bai Yunfei took another sip of water from the bowl, got up, picked up his sword, and walked into the dilapidated cabin.

The words on the wooden table dried. The wind was blowing, teasing the still landscape in front of the wooden house, blowing out the noisy night downstairs.

PS: I've added the reason why I learned epee in chapter forty-two. It also increases the damage dealt by the heavy sword's Action Skill.