The sun has set and night has fallen.

The dark night, the lonely, empty, crazy night.

Pieces of fallen leaves floated to the ground, without a sound, without a single movement, and suddenly they were drowned and drowned by the night.

No wind, no light.

Everything in heaven and earth seems to be extremely dead and still, as if it is a hell without a trace of vitality and vitality, a hell without life.

The sword slowly sank into its sheath, and the cold, eerie cold light suddenly disappeared.

There were blood stains scattered on the ground, thighs, arms, and ears、......, as if they were not moving on the ground, as if they were moving again.

There was no wind, and a disgusting, suffocating stench wafted through the gusts.

The scabbard was pitch black, and so was the man, and the slender, soft, white hand held the hilt so tightly that no one could see, just as no one could see the body inside the lichen, blacker than the night.

Is this man a man? Is it a woman? Is it a handsome man? Is it a beauty? Is it an old man? Is it a wild ghost? ......。

Nobody knows, and maybe no one wants to know.

Fallen leaves float onto the bare heads, no longer swaying, no longer moving.

Bloodflower didn't move, not even a finger.

The fallen leaves overhead suddenly shattered and vanished.

He stared at Xia Hua coldly, staring at the pitch-black one, one darker than the night.

No one can see the indescribable resentment and resentment in his eyes, because when the resentment and resentment in his eyes were born, they were drowned alive and drowned by the night.

There is only darkness between heaven and earth, the darkness of despair and madness.

Bloodflower was silent.

It seems that he can only chant a deadly mantra to ask for someone else's life.

No one can understand the essence and purpose of this bald donkey's heart.

Is it Buddhism? Is it Taoism? Is it Confucianism? Or is it something else? No matter which one it is, it will not be bland, let alone dull.

The night was thicker and there was no wind.

His teeth gritted tighter and harder, and the corners of his mouth were already stained with blood from the exertion.

Xia Hua was silent.

This person seems to be the embodiment of the night, and the night can't speak, let alone express anything.

Dark, lonely night.

Ethereal, empty posture.

There is no sound, no movement, this person seems to have been swallowed up by the night, and it seems that he has possessed the night, enjoying and savoring the pleasure and pleasure it brings.

There was no sword drawn, no movement.

Yang Qing was even more silent.

But he was already vomiting, although the cloak was warm, and although his body was hard, stable, and warm, he still couldn't get a trace of peace and calm in his heart.

She fell to the ground, her stomach twitching, but she couldn't see what she was vomiting.

Her hand twitched, and then she suddenly retracted, twitching and shaking hard, and she didn't know if it was sour water? Or tears? Or blood? Still is.......

Without flicking his hand a few times, he pounced on Wusheng, but he tripped again, a thing with hair and flesh.

She couldn't control herself anymore, twitching and hissing.

"Lifeless."

It didn't seem to be said with her mouth, strictly speaking, she didn't know how she said it.

Then her hand touched the other, a calm, steady and warm hand, and a pair of eyes darker than the night, empty without a trace of emotion, without a trace of pain, without a trace of love, without anything.

Calm, steady palms.

Dark, merciless eyes.

Yang Qing suddenly hugged his body, hugging him tightly and refusing to let go.

Her body gradually calmed down, and her eyes already revealed indescribable emotions, which were also love, the girl's excessive loneliness and empty love.

She was already gasping, love was already fluttering.

No one could see it, because as soon as she gave birth to love, she was drowned alive and drowned by the night.

The lifeless stone statue stood upright, straighter than the gun in his hand, his dark eyes darker than the night, empty and empty without a trace of emotion, staring and poking in front like a gun.

There was nothing but pitch black ahead.

It was as if he was going to poke the darkness alive on the ground.

No wind, no words, no light.

It was quiet enough to hear the sound of blood on the walls "hissing" and sliding to the ground and then sinking into the ground, a maddening, crumbling sound.

"Bald donkey?"

Bloodflower didn't move, already gasping.

"The gun god is lifeless?"

"Yes."

"You haven't turned into a Grim Reaper yet?"

"Yes."

"Are you about to become a Grim Reaper?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to become a Grim Reaper sooner?"

"Yes."

"What else do you have to say?"

"Bald donkey, you're not a good thing, you were bare when you were alive, and you have to be bare when you die?"

"You ......."

"You're a bald donkey, not a monk."

"I'm a monk."

"You're not a monk, you're a bald donkey."

The blood flower was silent, already wheezing, and the slightest wheezing sound seemed to be made by the demons in hell when they were too lonely and too empty, unspeakably weird and mysterious.

He walked slowly towards lifelessness, but stopped seven feet in pitch black.

"Xia Hua?"

"Bloodflower?"

"Why should you?"

"Why are you bothered?"

The chivalrous flower was silent.

Bloodflower was silent.

They also had nothing to say, and they did not want to say any more.

Their words have come to an end, and the end of the words is to do it, and to do it is to kill the other party, and maybe their own life.

There was no wind, and the fallen leaves fluttered more violently and sluggishly, as if it was a girl who endured excessive loneliness and emptiness in the dark night, not knowing what to do, and not knowing what to do, fluttering and swaying indiscriminately.

There is neither an idea nor a soul, floating wildly.

The lifeless stone statue stood upright, straighter than the gun in his hand, his empty eyes without a trace of emotion, staring and poking ahead like a spear.

There was no speech in front of him, and he did not want to speak.

Their words have come to an end, and the end of the words is to do it, and to do it is to die, either their own life or the life of their opponents.

Their lives are already fluttering, their bodies are fluttering.

There was no light in the heavens and the earth, and now suddenly there was light.

Sword light.

The sword light fluttered, the sword aura was strong, and the sword intent was swinging.

There is no wind in the heavens and the earth, and there is now a wind.

Sword Wind.

The sword wind is longitudinal, the fallen leaves are fluttering, and the swaying Xiao Xiao.

The sword wind rushed towards the blood flower, piercing into his body, and his eyes looked indescribably happy and happy.

His eyes fell on the wound on Xia Hua's broken arm, and the blood that kept flowing out of the wound.

The blood kept flowing out, and the happiness and joy in his eyes were even stronger, so thick that it seemed to be a demon who did not eat the fireworks of the world, unspeakably ferocious and vicious.

The muscles on his face were already twitching, but his mouth was still chanting, chanting evil spells.

"Knock you to death, knock you to death, knock you to death......."

The wooden fish fluttered a few times and then suddenly fell, and when it fell, it was no longer floating, as if it had become one with the earth, without movement or sound.

The chivalrous flower no longer flutters, and it can't flutter, and its body has been held alive by the blood flower, and it is held to death.

I want to draw my sword, but I can't pull it out.

Xuehua gritted her teeth, as if she was very proud, proudly clamped the sword body alive, and clamped it alive with her body.

The cold eyes had gradually glowed, blood light, the light peculiar to demons.

He held Xia Hua's body hard and desperately, and the harder he held it, the stronger and more ferocious the blood flowed from the wound on his broken arm.

Then he walked to the wall and kept writing, writing about his loneliness, emptiness, his pain and suffering.

The sword glittered, dim, ephemeral, and uncertain.

"Go to hell, go into the oil pot, go up the knife mountain, let the dogs gnaw, let the pigs arch ......."

The more blood flowers are written, the less pain there is on their faces, and the more cheerful they are.

Xia Huasi howled, and in the dark, lonely, and ruthless night, it sounded like a terrible ghost who was about to be unable to endure the torture and torture, and it was indescribably poignant and sad.

The lifeless body stood like a stone statue, straighter than the gun in his hand, but he was already gasping.

Wheezing and breaking free from Yang Qing's embrace, a lonely, lonely, loving hug, and walked forward.

The sword light in front of him flashed, hissing ripples, blood flowed, and life was swaying.

He didn't walk fast, but he was extremely calm and steady.

He hadn't taken a few steps before he suddenly fell, then he gritted his teeth, gasped, struggled to his feet, stood up like a stone statue, and walked on again.

It was as if no one in heaven and earth could bend his body, not even the slightest.

He walked over and picked up Bloodflower's leg and gave it to Bloodflower himself.

"Bald donkey, give you a leg."

Bloodflower gasped and threw away the chivalrous flower.

He throws away the chivalrous flower like a naughty boy throwing away a tired and boring toy.

Bloodflower took the thigh, and then the thigh parted from the body, and the bloody thigh was already written on the wall, writing everything about himself, his life.

Then he suddenly fell.

When he fell, he kept twitching, the muscles in his face twitching, the pleasure in his eyes twitching, everything was twitching.

When he stopped twitching, he stopped moving, he didn't speak, he didn't breathe anymore.

......。

The night is deeper, and the loneliness is thicker, so thick that it makes people feel bitter and crazy.

An oil lamp looks indescribably dim, hazy and mysterious in the shabby, quaint temple.

The hot water of the super large tank is swaying with heat and gentleness all the time, just like a mature and amorous woman, who will always sway her own unique lovesickness and loneliness.

Yang Qing's body did not have a trace of coldness, but the eyes were extremely cold, cold and lonely.

Her eyes had fallen outside, and it was pitch black outside.

He stood like a stone statue in the dark night, straighter than the gun in his hand.

Yang Qing looked at him quietly.

"I'm afraid of the light, come here."

Silent without life.

"Come here, I'm not afraid."

Silent without life.

"You are standing outside, and you are standing in the house, can you get closer to me?"

Silent without life.

"It's okay to get a little closer to me."

Silent without life.

It was as if he had really become a stone, a stone that couldn't speak, couldn't move.

Xia Hua struggled to get up, passed by him, walked into the temple, walked towards Yang Qing, and walked towards the water tank.

Wusheng didn't stop it, and he didn't even look at it.

Yang Qing suddenly screamed.

"You can't come in, I'm taking a shower, you can't come near me."

Xia Hua was silent, as if she hadn't heard.

"Men and women can't tell me, stop it."

Xia Hua didn't stop.

"Stop, I'm going to scream."

Xia Hua didn't stop, didn't speak, walked over slowly, slowly took off the night-like hat, and then showed her face.

It was an extremely beautiful, ecstatic and cold face, emaciated, pale face without a trace of blood, extremely transparent, transparent as if it were crystal, she seemed to be carved from crystal, so beautiful that it could not be deformed or distorted.

When he entered, he hugged Yang Qing, gently like a kind mother hugging her child.

Yang Qing didn't stop her, and was hugged by her like this.

There was no wind, and Xia Hua's body was already twitching gently, as if it was gently twitching her loneliness and emptiness.

Yang Qing was about to go crazy, but she couldn't resist.

The hot water gradually became red with blood, and Xia Hua's face became more transparent, and there was no trace of blood.

She slowly opened her eyes, and jumped out of the water tank, leaving the hot water, and walking towards darkness, towards lifelessness.

The lifeless stone statue stood erect, straighter than the gun in his hand.

Xia Hua walked towards Wusheng, and then hugged him tightly.

Her body twitched, her wheezing twitched, and the coldness and loneliness in her eyes twitched.

The twitching gradually subsided, and the cold, lonely color in his eyes became extremely weak and tired.

Then she fell suddenly, and when she fell, she no longer twitched, she no longer moved, and her cold, lonely eyes became indescribably tired.

A boredom that goes deep into the marrow and into the soul, as if it is tired of everything, even alive.

What should a person do when he is tired of it? Going for a drink? Gambling for money? Or is it a snowstorm?

Maybe there's another way to make yourself tired, tired and powerless to get tired of it, and you can't get tired of it.

He opened his eyes, pulled back the covers, and walked out the door.

He was already extremely tired and weak, but why was the color of boredom in his eyes even stronger? It is so thick that it goes deep into the bone marrow and into the soul.

The girl on the bed was sleepy, and she didn't know that the chill in the night was already touching her body.

She just shivered a little, and swayed again in her sweet dreams.

He suddenly felt that he was extremely tired and lazy, and he didn't even cover the quilt for the girl, and he didn't want to do anything.

He walked out the door and saw a hand.

A calloused hand, his face extremely calm, extremely cold.

"A total of three taels of silver."

The color of boredom in the lazy eyes was even thicker, so thick that he was unable to speak, and he did not want to speak.

He just shook his head, weakly.

"No money?"

The calloused hand suddenly clenched into a fist, the fist was already waving, and the man was already twisting and deforming on the ground.

"Who are you?"

The corners of his lazy mouth were already dripping with bitter water.

"I'm not human."

"What are you not human?"

"I'm a flower."

The fists were waving again, and the lazy human bones were already rattling, but there was no trace of pain in his eyes, but the color of boredom was even stronger.

The fist was withdrawn, and a smile had risen on his face, a sneering, cold, cruel smile.

"What kind of flower are you?"

"Tired of flowers."

"There is no shortage of flowers, only silver."

Tired of being silent, already twitching like a shrimp on the ground.

"You don't have any money, how can you come here."

Tired flowers are silent.

The fist gradually loosened, and the man was already sighing.

"Someone."

Seven or eight people came, seven or eight big men with strong bodies and full of fat and flesh.

"The old rules."

Seven or eight people had already clenched their fists, carefully and honestly behaving this lazy man.

The fists have been retracted, the corners of their foreheads have been sweated, and they have gasped.

Then they threw the man into the pigsty, into the pigs.

......。