"Wu Jiu, this is your fault, you can't see that you are short, you see that the master is fine, watch over there, am I blocking him?"

The bald head turned his head, put his index finger against his nose, and made a pig nose to stick out his tongue and grimace at Wu Jiu.

Angry, Wu Jiu jumped like thunder, grabbed a green jujube casually, and threw it on his bald face.

The bald head jumped out of his seat and dodged his green dates.

"Say you're short, you're still not convinced, Master, did you say I was wrong?" The bald head hid directly behind the white-haired man's chair.

The man has long white hair, which is parted in the middle in the front and simply tied with a black ribbon on the back at the back.

Black and white.

The eyebrows and eyes are delicate, the nose is high, the facial features are upright, and there is no loss of heroism in the delicate air, this person not only has white hair, but also eyelashes and eyebrows are white, and the complexion on his body is also very light, white like snowflakes.

Sitting there, out of place with the things around him, it was as if an angel had fallen into the mortal world.

In the face of the fight between the bald head and the red-haired man, the white-haired man did not move, and his eyes were always looking at the playing field.

If you look closely, you can see from his gray pupils, a red sword that shines brightly.

It can be seen that his attention has always been on the Frost Sword.

Zhang San was shocked back five meters, and his chest was severely oppressed by a strong air pressure.

"Poof. ”

He spat out a mouthful of blood.

Jing Ge came back to his senses in an instant and grasped the Frost Sword.

She stood proudly, looking at Zhang San in a posture of contempt.

"Your vajra shield has been broken. ”

As soon as her voice fell, Zhang San quickly looked down at herself, and was shocked to find that her vajra body, which was known for its sturdiness, was really broken by this red sword.

Jing Ge didn't give him much time to regain his senses, moved lightly, quickly dodged to Zhang San, and hit the man's abdomen with the unsheathed frost sword in his hand.

The huge impact force formed an energy wave of physical fluctuations, which was concentrated in Zhang San's abdomen, and his whole person was knocked out by that energy wave.

Flying all the way to the wall of the stands, the whole person crashed into the wall, embedded in it before stopping.

The nearest onlookers were frightened to scurry around when they saw the people flying over, and finally one of the monks opened a ten-meter-wide barrier in front of them, blocking the energy wave that had weakened by most of it, and preventing some innocent spectators behind him from being injured.

A large amount of broken brick powder fell off Zhang Sanzhou's body and smashed to the ground.

The people in the stands saw that there was no danger, and they walked back one after another, sticking their heads out from above, and looked at Zhang San who was smashed into the pit.

Zhang San had already rolled his eyes and fainted at this time, bleeding from his seven orifices.

"What kind of sword is that kid in his hand, and it's too powerful, isn't it?" I don't know who brought up the topic first, and soon the onlookers around began to talk about it.

Everyone was speculating about what that sword was.

One of the sword nerds knows all the swords in the world, but he can't tell what kind of sword it is.

"Master, do you know that sword?" asked the bald head, leaning against the back of the white-haired man's chair and touching his round chin.

"Shizun looks younger than you, you are a dead bald head and embarrassed to call Shizun an old man?"

"Phew, I'm respectful, you little brat, you know a fart. The bald head lifted his eyelids and glared at the red-haired man in disgust.

The red-haired man was about the same size as Jing Ge, slightly taller than the little half finger, and estimated to be about the same age.