Chapter 119 says that death is death

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The General Xia a hundred years ago didn't see a scene, but let General Xia's sister-in-law Xia He a hundred years later see these, these pitiful but hateful pictures, as if those who were deceived by General Hua returned to the world, dead and born as ghosts. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Every flower is every ghost, Xia He floated weakly on the high platform, Yin Huai stood on the high platform with a knife, and Xiao Lian looked at his brother who had almost disappeared in horror and was paralyzed on the high platform.

Outside the high platform, there are ghosts inside the high platform.

Those iron-blooded remnants of a hundred years ago, they were all singing war songs in low voices.

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Half a body is long, his life is short, 360 days a year, and most of them travel on horses.

A trip to the mountain, a trip to the water, the body to the side of Yuguan, a thousand tents in the middle of the night.

Bitter line, happy line, carrying the life of the son of heaven on the back, falling off the cliff and withering vines to fight armor.

Kill a lifetime, save a lifetime, war drums and thunder, war songs are raised, and battle flags are lost.

The battle flag is ruined, the battle is inspired, the enemy is killed for thousands of miles, the division is wrapped in a thousand miles, and the wasteland and grass are not seen.

Thousands of horses, hundreds of horses, ten thousand burials.

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The singing voice is vast, the voice is long, it seems to be a song flowing out of the cracks of time, and it is transmitted to the thousands of flowers at this time, with indescribable pathos and unexplained desolation.

The singing voice is no longer the same, and the people who sing are no longer the same, and nothing remains the same.

That blood has been transformed into iron blood in the space of decades.

Those iron and blood have been burned into a scar in nearly a hundred years.

A scar engraved in the bottom of the heart, engraved in various places on the body.

A hundred years ago, they were heroic soldiers loyal to General Xia, and a hundred years later, they are no longer warriors, they are just themselves, an old man who was killed by someone and wanted revenge.

A hundred years ago, the Xia family was the object of their allegiance, and a hundred years later, the Xia family did not have that Xia general, only a Xia He who had not yet grown up, and a hundred years later, the Xia family was the object they wanted to destroy.

A hundred years of unwillingness completely erupted at this time, there were cultivators among them, but they were not the existence that could drive away ghosts, so a hundred years later, there should have been no them, no spirits, no ghosts who wanted to kill.

But a hundred years later, another fish has lived from a hundred years ago to the present, a one-eyed dark red fish.

That's why there are saffron eyes, and then there are souls that want to kill.

The singing faded away, and the souls that emerged from the heart of the flower gradually became apparent, although the faces of those souls were still hidden in a fog, but they still revealed human form.

Especially the figures standing in front of Xia He were even more imposing, and the faint aura far exceeded that of the Hua family master at that time, and the current Xia He was nothing in front of those figures.

Those figures floated, standing not far from Xia He, and they couldn't see the expressions on their faces clearly, because they didn't have faces at all, they didn't even have eyes, they didn't know where the low singing voice came from, and they didn't know if they could really see Xia He's face when they leaned down.

They just watched, but the spirits around them that weren't so clear were still saying something.

The voice was very low and chaotic, as if there were countless people talking at the same time, and when it was transmitted to the high platform, those low voices became only a little fragment, and the fragments could not be connected into sentences, but there was a faint smell of blood.

Yin Huai heard those sentences, and suddenly thought of something, it seemed that he had heard such a voice before, and the voice of a sentence that was torn apart and thrown into the air.

But he didn't have time to think about it, because Xia He's body was still collapsing, and if it continued to collapse, then Xia He, who had lost his body, would die again.

Yin Huai threw out his own knife, the knife that cut down a red flower in his hand couldn't even get close to those souls, but was blown back to the high platform by a gust of wind, but the gust of wind was really panicked, and the knife that flew back pierced Yin Huai's arm hard.

The blood flowing from his arm slid down the knife, mixed with the blood of the owner of the Hua family, who had almost dried up on the knife, dripped on the high platform, and then merged into the red of the high platform.

This is a blood-red world, those red flowers, those tall buildings, those souls, and blood-stained clothes stained with blood-stained knives, where there is no red.

Even Xiao Lian's frightened pale face looked a little flushed against the red light.

From the moment the saffron flowers bloomed, it was a sea of red.

Red is the color of festivities, but it is also the color of death.

The color of the blood was red, and Xia He, who was about to die, did not shed bright red, but he still had to die.

Yin Huai's arm was dripping bright red, and he was also going to die.

Xiao Pian, whose face was a little flushed, was also going to die.

All in all, people here are going to die, it's just a matter of when.

Maybe you have to wait until those who don't have faces are tired of looking at Xia He.

Yin Huai was waiting for death, for those faceless souls, for the one-eyed fish that didn't know where to swim, for those red flowers to bloom on his chest, or for someone to save him, such as a young man who had repeatedly performed miracles.

But he waited for nothing, did not die, and did not come out of the shadow of death.

Those souls didn't seem to want to kill them now, or maybe those souls didn't want to kill anyone, maybe they just wanted to take a closer look at the last concubine of the Xia family.

When Yin Huai had such an idea, a spirit floating in front of Xia He stretched out a hand, unable to see the shape of the fingers, but knew that it was a hand.

His hand was red like blood, and he pressed on Xia He, who had almost lost all his color.

Then, Xia He disappeared, completely disappeared.

The red pressed on top of the whitish black, and almost in the blink of an eye, the black disappeared completely, and Xia He disappeared.

In the world of ghost cultivation, especially in the ghost cultivation that has condensed into a body, disappearing is death.

Xia He died.

In a way that did not fit his character in the slightest, he died plainly.

If the owner of the Hua family who died in the hands of Xia He was resentful, then Xia He's death was just funny.

A way to die with a bad taste that has no reason in the avenue between heaven and earth.

Just like a gust of wind blowing a person to death, Xia He died as soon as he was pressed.

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Good luck guys, I don't know what to say, I still hope you can support me a lot, although I know that what I write now may be really embarrassing, but I still need a lot of support from all the big guys, a lot of care, than the heart, big guys!