The boy on the horse is called a coachman, surnamed Che, a famous man. He is Duan Anguo's chauffeur. He turned his head to look at the sunset that smeared the earth, and said, "It's past noon, and it seems that that your entourage didn't make the right choice, so it's time for me to fulfill my promise." ”

A slender sword appeared in his hand, and was about to point towards the girl in the dead grass.

The girl had already stayed there in fright, not knowing why such a change had happened, and the dream that Agung had promised her yesterday had not yet been fulfilled, and the moment of death came.

She suddenly understood, understood what the man with the sword in his hand, with a smile on his face, but his eyes were as cold as a pool of water.

"Argonne is dead, and you killed him?" said the girl, not knowing where the courage came from, staring at the coachman.

"No, no, no, he should be suicidal. The coachman glanced at Jing Qi absently.

"I don't believe it! You killed it, I can feel it. The girl in the withered grass pointed viciously at the man on the horse, as if cursing.

"Feeling, hehe, you don't feel it right away, what's the point of whoever kills. ”

The thin sword went downwards and slashed diagonally at the girl's chest.

At this moment, the hand of the strongest man behind Jing Qi shook silently, and a slender dart flashed in the setting sun and reached the front of the black horse.

"Stop," the driver said casually.

The man knew the strength of his darts, not to mention the flesh, but a brick wall, and with the strength he threw with all his might, he could easily penetrate it.

And the dart of such strength stopped in mid-air in such a strange spin, as if an invisible line tied the tail of the dart, making it pause in the air, but it would not fall for a moment and a half.

If it was a cultivator at the peak of the Apocalypse, with his pure divine thoughts, he could hear the humming sound of the tip of the dart spinning and rushing through the air. It's a pity that this entourage is also an ordinary ganger, and he feels a trace of inexplicable horror at everything in front of him.

He glanced at the helper, who was still as stable as a mountain, pursed his heavy lips, and touched the dart bag again with his right hand.

Jing Qi didn't look back, and shook his head silently. The attendant lowered his right hand, which was touching the dartbag.

"Spare her, I'll give you a sword. ”

As if waiting for these words, the coachman suddenly withdrew his sword and swung it into the air, and the dagger hanging in the air galloped back like a meteor, towards Jing Qi's face.

The Pu knife accurately blocked the tip of the dart, and the dart fell into the dead grass like a dead fish and disappeared.

"Girl, let's go......"

Jing Qi said calmly, and then urged the horse to walk forward for half a zhang, and came alone in front of hundreds of enemies, facing the head of the handsome black horse.

Xiao Qian seemed to have walked out of the ice cellar, knowing that death had already covered her head, she glanced at Jing Qi and disappeared into the grass.

"Coachman, what you are facing is not an ordinary person, even Lu Xiangguo is blue-eyed, be careful. The Sandau man said jokingly.

"Daoist, nonsense! This is a hero who pities the fragrance and cherishes the jade, and the heroes are generally miserable, and he will not be an exception. ”

"Conceited, fatal conceit!" Sang Dao was like a paralyzed old man, angrily patting the bamboo chair, shaking the bamboo chair, shaking his head and looking at the hundreds of elites killed left and right, as if he was dissatisfied with the coachman wanting to pick Jing Qi alone.

"I don't care if Lu Lao'er values you or not. Duan Fujun said that you are the best gang in the world, but I am not convinced!"

The coachman's thin sword unfurled in the setting sun, like a chopping and a thorn, and the target was Jing Qi's neck.

The heads of the two horses were almost intersecting, and at such a close distance, the feeling of the line between life and death made all the nerves in Jing Qi's body tense.

Ordinary people make moves on horses, and their legs will unnaturally clamp the horse's belly, and the young man in front of him is obviously not an ordinary person, but a cultivator.

The cultivator exerts his strength, without the help of external objects, and the true element gushes out from the body, so with the naked eye, even if he is as sharp as an eagle, he cannot grasp the timing of this person's sword. And before the young man on the opposite side took out his sword, Jing Qi had already closed his eyes.

The yellow and quiet wilderness, without a hint of wind. Jing Qi was like a piece of wood, planted from the horse's back with a thud without any warning.

The five attendants in the back suddenly tightened their hearts, and they didn't breathe a sigh of relief until they saw that the calm Seventh Master was still standing, feeling that the bloody rain of several years had not been so nervous at this moment.

A trace of black hair scattered in the setting sun, the four fields were silent, and even the indignant Sangdao people held their breath and stretched their necks to see how Jing Qi flashed the coachman's killer sword.

In the absolute calm, a dull neighing suddenly sounded, and Jing Qi's horse suddenly collapsed like a pile of rotten meat that had been pumped out of the skeleton, and the thick blood filled the spot.

A horse was shattered like this, and under the coachman's sword, Jing Qi, who had a calm face, did not glance at the fallen horse, and said quietly with indifference and coldness: "This is a sword for you." ”

The coachman put away his playful grin, and there was a glint in his eyes.

"The master of the Nine Swords Gate, the five-foot sky in Nancheng, the first young gang leader in the world, really lives up to his reputation!"

Jing Qi didn't listen to what he said, let alone look at him, in his consciousness, he instinctively felt that the hundreds of hearts on the other side were beating steadily, and there was a slight fluctuation.

It's a good time.

Jing Qi turned around suddenly, pulled out the Pu knife with a whoosh, pointed obliquely at the setting sun, and shouted: "Kill!"

The five horses behind him, like boulders falling in the air, like sharp arrows on the strings, instantly fell into the gang of the Broken Knife Society, withered grass, smoke and dust, mixed with blood instantly burst out.

At the moment when he shouted to kill, Jing Qi once again clearly felt the disorder in the beating of the hearts on the other side, and a smile overflowed from the corner of his mouth, and the taste called "happy" once again occupied his mind.

The Sang Dao man on the bamboo chair straightened up suddenly, as if awakened from a dream, and looked at the five men who had entered the crowd with wide eyes.

The tiger and leopard cavalry of the imperial court did not have such momentum! Five ordinary men smashed into the arms of death like this, and the point was that there was no trace of scruples, no trace of consideration.

Who gave them the courage to look at death as if they were home, Sang Dao people looked at Jing Qi who was standing proudly among the dead grass with slightly panicked eyes, and for a moment, the facial features and wrinkles on his face were twisted together, as ugly as a dead father.

The mourning star completely had a killing intent, starting from Yingdu, gathering all the way to the killing intent at this moment unscrupulously released, those long grass that had withered and died, as if it was dead again, starting from the bamboo chair, and fell weirdly around.

The coachman knew that the Death Star had nothing to do with him, so he was unwilling to stop the reins and hide next to him.

The Death Star pulled out a white stick from under the bamboo chair, and the stick was wrapped around the white paper, which looked yellow like grass in the sunset, and it was the mourning stick.

This kind of stick made of white or yellow paper is most common in funerals in the northern countryside of the Great Xia Empire, Jing Qi frowned slightly, not knowing how to attack this stick as a weapon.

I didn't see how the tall and thin Taoist on the bamboo chair acted, and a chill suddenly blew under the lonely sunset.

Jing Qi felt dozens of evil breaths attack him like snakes, mixed with the terrible howl of ghosts and wolves, turning into a huge whirlpool on the withered yellow grass.

The Pu knife, which was as straight as a sword, danced silently, and as soon as he made a move, it was Jing Qi's self-realization.

The simplest and most practical movements, dancing with rhythm among the dry grass at dusk, like dancing a strange dance, the sword and the body are integrated, and the body is all shaking by feeling.

The fierce wind smashed on the Pu knife one by one, and the Pu knife could always distinguish the most fierce, the most dangerous, and the most deadly one among the dozens of strong winds.

But in a moment, Jing Qi's right arm was already sore, and the Pu knife in his hand no longer had the initial agility, but his eyes were still as cold as autumn water, and in the interval of waving, through the yin wind entwined with wild grass, he saw the most athletic entourage, the head was leaving the neck, and on the flying and spinning head, you could also see the eyes that had lost their lives, and there was a color of courage and courage that had not faded in them.

Jing Qi's calm and normal heart suddenly showed a hint of loosening. Pu Dao slowed down a little, and a sharp yin qi slashed across his shoulder, and a fine streak of blood appeared on the gray cloth shirt.

As if to match the bloodshot that appeared, the ugly corners of the Sangdao people overflowed with a sinister smile at the same time.

Jing Qi was still in a desperate situation.

......