As night approached, Yunjue Town was attacked by some demon clans.

Lu Xiaoer's wine hadn't woken up yet, and he was holding his sword and leaning against the pillar with drunkenness and smirking.

Wine is a good thing sometimes.

When Nandao heard the sudden strong smell of blood in the wind, he went out with an umbrella and did not call Lu Xiaoer.

When they arrived all the way outside the town, those sword cultivators had already set up a front, and although the hastily repaired town fortress was a little low, it could also be used as some barriers.

For sword cultivation, the barrier is naturally an extremely important existence.

Especially when Edgeworth is suppressed from a distance, sword cultivation without a sword is naturally fragile.

Simon stood there with the broken knife on his back.

Those demon clans are still a picture of the world, but the demonic power around them is pervasive, which makes their bodies strong enough to hard-shake the cultivation of Dao Sects of the same level.

As for demonism, this is a very weak field compared to swordsmanship, Taoism, and even witchcraft.

Inherited for thousands of years, the way of witches and ghosts began to appear since the time of gods and ghosts, and came from the gods and gods, often appearing with grand and magnificent images, representing the prayers for gods and ghosts in the hearts of the world and the display of their divine power.

Taoism is from the Hangu view, based on the words of the avenue, observing the principle of the operation of the world, there are ancient ways to simple to complex techniques, as well as today's new students to imitate the art of heaven and earth.

Swordsmanship is based on sword intent, developed from the retro flow kendo, and radiates new vitality in the hands of the seventh senior brother of the sword grinding cliff back then.

And the magic power is the latest to appear.

When people think of the demon clan, if it is not for the same trend, they often think of brute bravery.

However, such a population, which has been almost the same as the world since its birth, naturally follows the trajectory of the world.

The world is gentle, and the demon clan is gentle.

The same goes for sorcery.

Inheriting the Dao Technique Sword Technique, there is not much difference.

Yun Hu didn't know that he had written about the inner differences between witchcraft and Taoist practice, and naturally he had also studied some rare demon arts in the world and the comparison between the three.

Between the techniques, in the final analysis, it is naturally the use of the power that is held.

Probably the only difference is that there is always a desolate connotation to hexology.

Just as they still remember the sad and miserable story of being banished from the world when they were first born.

There is a big demon blowing in the distant mountains.

When Nandao stood on the barrier with an umbrella, he heard the sound of the spring breeze in the town at night.

Deep and desolate, it makes people feel depressed.

It's not just those who hear about it.

The swords of those sword cultivators also roared softly.

The sound of Xun was in the ears, but it made the sword cultivators present feel a little desolate in their hearts, and they subconsciously wanted to retreat.

It is only then that there will be the sound of the sword and the sound of the enemy.

Simon unraveled his knife and tapped lightly, and his voice was loud and high.

Wake up the sword cultivators in those small cultivation places in the world.

"What a hex."

It is not for nothing that the demon clan has joined forces to form an army of its own.

It's not just the demon clan's conceited demon power.

What's more, this kind of Xunyin demon technique has the meaning of the song of the battle array.

Where does this come from?

The group of sword cultivators seemed to remember something.

When the demon clan was born, Li Asan suddenly attacked, and the demon lord and the demon clan of the world, who was still the secretary of the Ministry of Rites at that time, were forced to fight with the Huai'an army in Nanyi City, and were killed to the point that none of them remained, and they were defeated.

crossed Yun Mengze, and met the demon army led by the master of the Demon Town Division at that time.

Forced to flee all the way to the Yellow Mountains.

Although Huangliang has a witch and ghost road, combined with the armor, the formation of a witch armor with a return of the spirit, but tomorrow Xin when he was a young man to kill the entire southern witch and ghost dao people dare not come forward, in this case, the Huangliang armor is naturally far inferior to Huai'an, it is at that time, the song of the battle array, in the battle of the exorcism, played a great role.

The most well-known is the demon suppression song played on the pipa that has survived from the time to the later days.

The people of Huangliang are gods and ghosts, strange and difficult to determine, such a song has a strong lethality for the demon clan, which can dispel the demon power, making the demon clan unable to fight again.

It's a pity that the world was the same later, and the short-lived song of the demon suppression in the story of a thousand years ago was also annihilated in history.

It's just that the world probably didn't think about it.

However, the demon clan drove the war songs that once fell on them with demonic power, and returned them to the world in the story thousands of years later.

Nandao was also in a trance at the moment when he first heard those Xun sounds.

Soon, however, there was a fine snow in my eyes.

The peach blossom sword behind him also came out of its sheath on its own, diffusing the crumbs of fine snow and protecting it around his body.

Ximen naturally sensed the meaning of those wind and snow, and turned his head to look at the young man under the umbrella who had just arrived not far away, and there was a lot of surprise in his eyes.

Shibei should be impressed for three days.

Simon felt that he was facing this young man, and he probably needed to pull out his eyeballs and drop them on his umbrella to really see the many changes.

It's just that he doesn't want to be Zhang Xiaoyu, so naturally he won't really do it.

And those demons have already come.

Ximen looked back at the demon clans who came from the mountains and forests to the north, with the night moon and clear light, bathed in Xunyin demonic arts.

Countless sword sounds rang out.

Those sword cultivators who were constantly converging towards Cloud Absolute Town were naturally enough to form a strong line of defense.

Simon stood there silent.

How to deal with the matter with the demon clan is naturally an extremely complicated issue.

But such things as kindness, tolerance, and patience are obviously irrelevant to the story of the moment.

The people of the world naturally need to give the demon clan enough painful counterattack so that they can retreat and reflect in that senseless anger and panic.

Under the moonlight, a sword with the meaning of wind and snow flashed away in the sword light.

Ximen looked at the sword quietly, remembering the snowstorm in Nanyi City last April.

and the boy who was sent into the river by Zhang Xiaoyu with a sword in the snow.

The young man with the broken knife turned his head to look at the other end of the barrier.

The young man stood calmly under the umbrella, his sword intent flowing, faintly with an extremely sharp trajectory in the clear light of the night moon, and the blue-black sword hovered beside him for a long time with the wind and snow that was constantly regenerating and diffuse.

The other scabbard behind him was empty.

Parrot Continent and those sword cultivation swords went to the demon clan front that came across the mountains and forests.

The Xun sound seems to have gone down - or maybe it hasn't.

It's just another, more sonorous and powerful song that sounded in the mountains and forests.

If it is said that the previous Xunyin is a trace of the story left in the world thousands of years ago, it is long and desolate.

Then the sound of the pipa that rose later is the emotions that the demon clan has accumulated in the thousand-year-old story.

Simon saw with his own eyes that a certain demon clan poured a body of demonic power into the bloody musical instrument in his arms, standing in the cold mountain forest of the moonlight, and scraping his fingers and flesh inch by inch on the strings of the strings and falling like a peach blossom.

And sad and strong.

There were demon clans on the edge of those mountains and forests, facing those sword lights that pierced the moonlight, and jumped up angrily with the swords in their hands, as if they wanted to cut them down.

It's just that the cold light with a fine snow chill on top of it, suddenly pierced through the center of his eyebrows, like dancing under the moon, and shot at another demon clan again.

Simon stood there, looking at the demon clan who fell down and turned into some mundane thing in the world after the demonic power dispersed, and there was probably some anger - there is no anger in the world, what are you angry about?

Are you afraid of the world, or the stories of thousands of years ago that you refuse to forget?

Simon stood there with a cold expression.

However, after all, he still didn't let his broken knife come out of the sheath.

This is war.

And not slaughter.

The boy under the umbrella, and the sword cultivators in those small towns, were enough to teach these demon clans who were not very strong enough painful lessons.

And at the other end of the barrier.

After crossing the night, Parrot Island fell back in front of Nandao.

The peach blossom sword is gone.

Compared to Parrot Continent, which always had a cold and cold light, the blue-black peach blossom sword was obviously more deadly in the night.

The swords that surrounded Nandao headed towards the mountains and forests that those demon clans rushed to.

It's like a light yarn blown away by the spring breeze.

Nandao looked down at the long-pervading demonic power on Parrot Continent, and the demon blood on the hilt of the sword, and looked up at the demon clans shouting in the moonlight under the umbrella.

He remembered the story of when he first entered Nanyi City.

It was March 15, 1003 in the Great Wind Calendar.

All Souls' Day on Earth.

At that time, he looked at the demon clan who came by boat, the witch and ghost road, all the same flow to the tomb mountain full of cyan tombstones, at that time the sound of chanting was mighty and peaceful, and the drum instruments were warm and harmonious.

Nandao still remembers the feeling of being deeply shocked at that time.

In the spring of the year 104 of the Great Wind Calendar.

Those pictures of the past were shattered in the heart of the young man.

It's like a mirror has been broken.

Then the blood gushed out, and then the severed limbs flew out, and the heads that rolled down in the spring breeze of the mountains and forests still carried resentment for no reason, and the foul words in their mouths had not yet fallen to the ground—perhaps they had already fallen, and they were shaken by the swift rushing footsteps with demonic power, along with the dust and broken leaves.

It fell into the ears of the world.

Nandao lowered his head and raised his hand to wipe the blood on Parrot Island, so the young man's blank eyes shone in the clear watery sword body under the cold moonlight.

So.

Brother.

Why are you doing this?

This young man stood on the barrier outside the town with an umbrella, his three-foot sword intent circulating, and his body was full of vitality.

But this is an unhappy thing.

In war, everyone becomes a killing machine.

Nan Dao looked at the approaching demon clan, and those splashes of blood could sometimes fly far until they landed on his body.

At a certain moment, Nandao suddenly understood where the emotions of the white-clothed sword cultivator who was covered in blood and full of pain came from in the battle in Nanyi City.

Killing is a painful and torturous thing.

So.

Brother.

You've been there.

Why do you want to do this?

Zhang Xiaoyu!

There was a voice of anger in Nandao's heart after being deceived.

How much this young man believed in that white-clothed sword cultivator at the beginning, how angry and painful he is now.

But all the stuff.

For now, it can only be hidden deep in the heart.

The demon clan finally crossed the defense line paved with those sword lights, and approached the safety line of the sword cultivators' swords outside their bodies.

So the swords fell back into their hands from the night with a chill.

In that kind of distant and desolate Xun sound, whether it is a sword cultivator or a Taoist, those sword intents and vitality inevitably have the intention of declining.

However, those sword cultivators still held their long swords, wrapped in sword intent and rhyme, and fell from the top of the barrier to the battlefield.

Simon looked at the other end of the rampart.

The figure of the boy under the umbrella had disappeared above the barrier.

There is blood in the moonlight of the world.

There is snow in the blood of the world.

The moonlight may be the color of snow.

......

When Lu Xiaoer woke up a little in a daze, it was already late at night.

The town seems to be very quiet.

Lu Xiaoer thought so.

"Uncle Shi?"

The little boy opened his eyes and looked around the yard, but he didn't see the figure of the young uncle holding an umbrella.

The fire on the side was about to go out, and probably the wine in it had been boiled dry, and some of the smell of burnt was waking through the courtyard, and soon the night breeze blew away.

Lu Xiaoer sniffed the smell and was suddenly stunned.

Then he staggered to his feet with his sword, looked up over the eaves of the courtyard, and looked out of the courtyard in a daze.

There was a strong smell of blood in the wind.

Lu Xiaoer had a bad premonition in his heart.

I called Uncle Shi twice, but there was still no response.

So he hurried through the courtyard with his sword in his hand and ran towards the outside of the courtyard.

It was only when I opened the courtyard gate that I saw a young man sitting on the eaves of the courtyard opposite, holding the umbrella, carrying two swords on his back, supporting his forehead, and looking down at the jar of wine that had been drunk in his arms.

Maybe it's resting.

Lu Xiaoer looked at the blood on Nandao's body in a daze.

The smell of blood in the wind is very layered.

Some are very remote, some are close.

The smell of blood that was very close came from his uncle.

That kind of appearance is very terrifying, and it is also very disobedient. The little boy had never seen such an uncle.

Lu Xiaoer hesitated for a moment, but sat down quietly at the door holding his sword.

When he was drunk, the demon clan should have come.

It's a no-brainer, obvious story.

Lu Xiaoer sat there, looking up at his uncle in silence.

Walking the world with a sword is an imaginary story, and walking in the world will inevitably bring many struggles.

Stepping on the horse and taking the spring breeze and holding the sword to take the head are also idealized things.

How a splash of blood is thrown into the spring breeze with an aesthetic texture, there is the same lingering blood color left in the bottom of my heart.

War is a collection of thousands of such stories.

Indignation is not enough.

Lu Xiaoer didn't see the story of Nanyi City, and he didn't know how the 800,000 black armor was stepped into the rain and mud of April little by little, and the black plants grew black fruits, and then fell and broke them after they ripened.

Tonight's story, Lu Xiaoer didn't catch up.

But he seems to have gotten a glimpse of the whole picture.

Nan Dao raised his head and looked at Lu Xiaoer, the desire to kill that had not dissipated for a long time in his eyes made this little nephew subconsciously clench the sword in his hand.

But fortunately, this gaze soon disappeared, as if drowned in a large dark lake.

The spring breeze blowing across the lake on a February night may have calmed it down a lot.

Nandao left the jar on the wall of the alley, and then rolled over and fell into the alley.

With a body of blood that was so thick that it made people feel gloomy in their hearts, he walked past Lu Xiaoer.

"Get me some water."

Nandao said softly.

Lu Xiaoer looked at the back of Nandao walking in and nodded.

"Okay, uncle."

It's just that the little boy still stood there with his sword in his hand, and he didn't move for a long time.

Nandao may have realized something, too, and looked back at him.

Lu Xiaoer was silent for a long time, and then asked softly.

"Uncle Shi, do you still regard him as a senior brother?"

Nandao was silent for a long time, then turned away.

"It's not right."

Lu Xiaoer's silence is naturally not because he wants to escape such a story.

It's that he knows it well.

Such a story comes from what kind of person it is.

The South Island is also well aware.

It was a depressed, struggling young man who always used a lot of smiles to hide his pain.

But all of it.

None of this is the reason why he put the world in the midst of fire and water.

Lu Xiaoer picked up a bucket from the yard and went to the well in the alley to fetch water.

Nandao stood at the edge of the courtyard for a long time, watching the town where all the hustle and bustle had fallen silent at night.

The hustle and bustle is disgusting.

And silence is chilling.

That means I don't know how many people in the world are lying quietly in those bloods.

Nandao looked down at the umbrella in his hand.

Maybe I remembered the snowstorm outside Nanyi City a long time ago.

Ten miles of world, there is no more life.

That's also a heavy story.

It's just that in Nandao's heart, it is not as good as the blood color of Nanyi City, and it is even far inferior to this tiny battle outside the town.

In those wind and snow sword lights, everything passed away extremely quickly.

didn't have time to give the young man who had abandoned the umbrella a glance at the appearance of being quickly chopped by the sword intent, and everything was wiped out in it.

But these are different.

The skull had been severed by the sword, and the veins inside wriggled and sprayed blood on the face.

At first it was warm, with a self-burning temperature, and then slowly became cold, like a maggot on the tarsal bones, crawling all over the body, and it was a sticky palpitation.

Nandao looked at the blood color of his body in silence, even with a black umbrella covering his head, there were still too many things attached to his body.

Lu Xiaoer walked in with a bucket of spring well water.

"Do you want to burn it, Uncle Shi?"

Nandao shook his head, then took it, raised the umbrella in his hand a little higher, and washed the bucket of water off his head.

So the courtyard began to rain like a bloody rain.

But the blood was black in the night.

It spreads like some unknown liquid that is constantly eroding the world.

The temperature of the well water is naturally lower than the temperature of the blood.

However, in the washing of the water in the world, the South Island has a feeling like a spring breeze.

The boy undressed, and the boy continued to fetch water.

Until everything is rinsed clean.

Nandao walked over wet, and sat down on the steps.

Lu Xiaoer saw a lot of blood on the umbrella, so he returned to the alley and washed the umbrella with water.

The little boy felt like he was washing a black silent mushroom.

Silent as the whole town.