Ignoring the injury and pain in her arm, she quickly ran behind the tree!

There was a muffled sound! The sword stabbed into the trunk of the tree with great ease, how sharp was the blade? How fast was his movements? Did she run? She staggered and fell to the ground, and for a moment she could not get up, so she stretched out her hands and groped on the ground, trying to grab something useful and throw it at him.

The man quickly drew his sword and stabbed it into the trunk of the tree, and ran behind the tree, where he saw the woman crawling on the ground.

Bian Xin didn't climb two steps before he caught up, and he was so anxious that he cursed in his heart, how could this bastard's eyesight be so good?

While she panicked, the man was already standing behind her, raised his sword, and stabbed her mercilessly.

In the panic, Bian Xin happened to touch something soft with both hands, sand, dust, soil, whatever, she grabbed a handful and threw it at the blurred head above!

And then another! handful after handful! The instinct to survive caused her to grab handfuls of sand and throw them desperately.

Her defenses seemed to work, the man snorted, his body shook, and the sword in his hand pierced the hem of the skirt she tied around her waist and plunged into the ground!

The blade was close to her skin, cold! Bian Xin was almost frightened crazy, his hands moved faster, and the sand and mud flew all over the sky.

The sand seemed to fly into the man's eyes, and the man cursed in a low voice: "Damn!" and blindfolded, took a few steps back, and kept wiping his eyes.

Bian Xin jumped up from the ground and tried to run, but immediately tripped over the fixed hem of his skirt.

She had to get up again, and with all the strength to feed, and pull at the hem of her skirt with all her might, but—to no avail!

If she dragged it any longer, the chaste fierce man was about to pounce again! In desperation, she fumbled and grabbed the hilt of the sword, and pulled it hard.

She didn't even think about it, grabbed the sword and ran, as quickly as a fire burning her ass!

If that chaste martyr catches up, she will use this short sword to cut him and fight to the death!

I don't know how long she ran, she was finally exhausted, she couldn't run anymore, she could only lie on the ground facing upwards, her hands tightly gripping the hilt of the sword, the tip of the sword pointing upwards, and always maintaining a defensive posture: did he chase him?

Little by little, time passed, and the surroundings were quiet and silent.

He didn't chase her? Or did he not catch up with her? Or did he go back? Or was he playing a game of cat and mouse with her?

After a long, long time, she finally regained a little strength, and struggled to get up, and searched for her yard with deep and shallow feet.

Looking around, she had returned to the back garden, which was different from the front garden, the back garden was a forgotten corner, there were no street lights, and the courtyards of the various concubines were also kept at a certain distance, very dark, and she couldn't distinguish her own yard at all.

Walking to a pool of water, she stopped and sat down on a stone panting.

The wound on her arm hurts! I wonder if the bleeding has stopped, and if someone finds out that she is injured, how will she explain it?

Suddenly, she thought of a stern question, if that fierce man followed the bloodstains to find her, wouldn't she kill herself?