The wind is howling, and the clothes are hunting.

The lifeless stone statue stood upright, straighter than the gun in his hand, his eyes were already staring at and poking at the filled tomb, and he didn't move away for a long time, as if he was already regretting a good sword, and it was also a fast sword.

Yang Qing gritted her teeth, jumping in the cold, cold snow, and enduring it, her eyes were not staring at Wusheng, she was afraid that Wusheng would pick her up, and she was afraid that Wusheng's body would become more shaky and weak after picking her up, and then she fell down, struggling and writhing in this cold, ruthless ice and snow.

The eagle put down the last handful of dirt in his hand, stood up, stared at him quietly, and then took out the bottle in his arms and poured it slowly.

The sorrow and anguish in his heart had fallen slowly with the fluttering wine, and fell on the cold, hard earth.

The eagle turned, facing the cold wind, staring at the sword, the man, and then walked towards him, stopping at seven feet.

"You're going to kill lifeless?"

Yang Tianxiao nodded.

"You're going to wait until he's healed before you kill?"

Yang Tianxiao nodded.

"Are you sure you'll kill him?"

Yang Tianxiao was silent and did not nod.

Because he is not sure, he is not sure at all, even if his own Lao Tzu comes back to life and holds this sword, he does not have the slightest certainty to kill this person, this is not like a human person.

There may be no one in the world who can kill him with confidence.

"You're not sure?"

Yang Tianxiao was silent, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

Strands of hair gradually blocked his eyes, but they couldn't block the pain and sadness that flowed.

"You don't want to kill him now?"

Yang Tianxiao stared at the wine eagle, staring at the hand holding the wine bottle, the pale, slender hand without a trace of blood seemed to be frozen, vaguely sticking to the soil, he seemed to have forgotten about it.

"I can't kill him now, and I can't let anyone else kill him."

"Why? Aren't you going to avenge your old man? ”

Yang Tianxiao's pale, steady hand did not grasp the hilt of the sword, and the green tendons on the surface of the hand had suddenly spit out, towering high like a poisonous snake.

"My Lao Tzu didn't die in his hands, it's just a tie with him, and there is no winner or loser." Yang Tianxiao suddenly stared at Wusheng, and his eyes were more chaotic, "I don't have a grudge against him." ”

The eagle didn't understand and didn't speak.

He really didn't understand this person, almost everyone who used swords in the rivers and lakes knew the duel between Yang Mingdao and the spear god Wusheng, the first battle was lost, and the first battle was gone.

This not only achieved the prestige of the spear god who was eyed by the world, but also made the sword have no edge in the rivers and lakes from now on, let alone dignity.

Isn't this a deep hatred? And if this isn't a deep hatred? Then why did he still look for Wusheng?

The eagle sighed deeply, he really couldn't understand the man's thoughts.

Yang Tianxiao stared at the wine eagle and said word by word, "I want to thank him, thank him for returning the head, and I also admire him." ”

Liquor Eagle didn't understand why he would have admiration for a father-killing enemy.

He had lowered his head, staring at the cold, unforgiving earth.

The cold wind was bleak, and the ice and snow that had just fallen had suddenly been swept away, swept away.

"It's not that our Yang family can't afford to lose, and I'm not a person who can't afford to lose." He suddenly grasped the hilt of the sword, the sword was not unsheathed, and the cold heaven and earth had suddenly resounded with a dragon groan, as if the wild beast of pain, loneliness, sorrow, and grief was chanting in a low voice.

The wine eagle was completely stunned, he really didn't expect it, let alone understand it.

One is obviously an enemy, but he wants to be respected; If it's respect, then why fight a duel?

Sooner or later, they will have to fight a duel, and maybe no one can stop it, and nothing can stop it. It's not a vendetta, but it's more memorable than a vendetta.

What could be more memorable than a vendetta?

The eagle was silent and lamented.

"Can't you figure it out?" The hand slowly let go, and the dragon groan suddenly disappeared, disappearing into nothingness. "I admire him because he was seriously injured, and he sent his head alone, and his face did not change in the face of the heroes of the world, which made the heroes cold and cold."

Bacchu Eagle nodded.

He stared at the lifeless man standing upright in the cold wind, as if he had seen that he had made the heroes cold and cold at that time, and the world looked sideways.

"But I'm going to duel him, because this sword is not willing to be so silent." Yang Tianxiao gritted his teeth. "You'll understand, and you'll not stop us, will you?"

The wine eagle slowly turned his head and stared at Yang Tianxiao, already understanding what he was saying so much for.

Yang Tianxiao closed his eyes and was silent, no longer moving, as if he was tired.

The cold wind cut his cheek like a knife, and he didn't have a trace of pain, as if he was numb, and he didn't know what pain was.

Did he want to tell Wine Eagle that the duel between him and Wusheng was not a vendetta, nor a trace of grudges, nor did he make a move for some personal grudge that did not share the sky, he was just a duel, to regain the glory and glory of the sword in his hand.

This kind of glory and brilliance may be more intense and unbearable for him than those grievances and grievances in the rivers and lakes.

When he told the eagle about it, he also told him about his determination and his prayers that he would not be involved in the story.

Because this is not a story of grievances between people, but a story of swords and guns.

They have no blood and tears, no grudges, only victory and defeat, nothing more.

He did not speak, nor moved, but closed his eyes as if he had been weighed down by the burden of shame, and he had been weighed down with disgust, boredom, and weariness.

Will the Bacchu Eagle understand? Would he just ask about the story here? Yang Tianxiao stared at the wine eagle, as if he was already waiting for his reply.

No one spoke, and their cheeks seemed to be covered with an unbearable sadness, an inescapable sadness.

The wine eagle was even more silent, already staring at Wusheng, and there was a look of concern and pity in his eyes.

Lifeless and silent, standing like a stone statue.

The empty eyes were already staring and poking at Yang Tianxiao, staring at and poking at the sword in his palm, "Good sword." ”

Yang Tianxiao nodded, also staring at Wusheng.

The two of them were already looking at each other face to face, at each other's swords and guns.

There seems to be an understanding between the sword and the gun, a kind of respect and love for each other.

Do they also have feelings for each other? Give birth to that flesh-and-blood emotion?

The sword was not unsheathed, and the hand did not touch the hilt, and the eyes were already shining, as bright as a cold star, and in the cold, merciless night, the brilliant, bright cold star.

Pale hands, pitch-black guns.

The gun didn't move, and the hand didn't move.

The pale hand never left the gun, which seemed to have become one with his body, an inseparable and inseparable part of his body.

The body was already standing like a stone statue in the cold wind, and the cloak was shaking violently.

Wusheng nodded slowly, and Yang Tianxiao also nodded slowly.

The wordless nod seemed to contain the kind of words that could not be spoken, and there was no need to narrate.

Yang Tianxiao suddenly turned around and walked towards the carriage.

The carriage was already neighing at the edge of the sky, and the people seemed to be at the end of the world.

The cold wind is still screaming, as if it is a lonely and lonely girl, writhing in the empty and crazy night, writhing the lovesickness and pain in her heart.

The color of loneliness between heaven and earth is even stronger.

The icy cold wind floated in through the thick cloth curtain, and fell into Yang Qing's arms with ice slag.

Yang Qing gritted her teeth, and her body kept shaking.

This is not what makes Yang Qing timid, what makes Yang Qing timid, what makes Yang Qing timid, is the sad and sad neighing of the horse, this horse neighing sounds in the cold wind, as if it is a terrible ghost who is being tortured in hell, a terrible ghost who is enduring painful torture and a miserable fate.

Through the curtain lifted, you can clearly see the two horses galloping and tearing in the wind and snow.

He whipped them as if he didn't think they were horses, but beasts, and thought of himself as demons.

The two horses galloped wildly in the wind and snow, like wounded beasts, running away in pain, grief, struggling, desperately fleeing.

Yang Qing shivered, covered the thick curtain, and stared at Wusheng.

seems to be secretly happy for herself, she is happy that she knows no life, not Yang Tianxiao, no matter what kind of woman knows a man like Yang Tianxiao, she may be in pain, life is better than death.

She felt that she was lucky, and the other half of her heart was not the person outside.

So she smiled stupidly, as if she was already celebrating this beautiful thing for herself.

The lifeless stone statue stood upright, and every muscle in his body seemed to be covered with wounds and sorrows.

His life seemed to be full of pain and sorrow.

There is no trace of emotion in the empty eyes, neither a trace of pity and sympathy for others, nor a trace of pain and sorrow for oneself.

The dark eyes stared and poked ahead, as if they wanted to stab everything in front of them alive.

There was nothing ahead, and no one else.

The icy cold wind gusted, carrying hard, cold slag against the carriage without the slightest intention of stopping.

Pieces of ice and snow fell on the carriage, and suddenly they were ruthlessly swept away by the cold wind, and disappeared far away, bare without a trace of ice and snow, nothing.

All that remained was the wailing of wild beasts and the sound of chains rolling in the snow.

The fire in the corner was not delicate, it was burning slowly and violently.

But he still stood like a stone statue, as motionless as a stone statue, as if he had really become a stone statue, a stone statue that could not move.

Perhaps it was her lover's strong sensitivity, and she suddenly screamed, screaming and rushing towards Wusheng.

The stone-like motionless body had fallen, and Yang Qing hugged him, shaking him vigorously and screaming at him.

There was not a trace of movement, nor a trace of sound, as if he had died.

The tears on Yang Qing's cheeks had drifted away, and she suddenly took off the thick mink fur on her body, pressed his body tightly to her chest, and desperately warmed him with no heat on her body.

The body has gradually stiffened, and there is no trace of heat left.

She rubbed her cheek desperately against his hair, as if she wanted to use this power to awaken his courage and confidence to live.

The tears in the corners of his eyes were even more scattered, and the thick cloth curtain was suddenly lifted, and the cold, cold ice slag snapped against Yang Qing's back.