Owen, whose hair was shiny and shiny, walked to the gate of the castle with a gentleman's style again.

He looked at Song Qingwen reservedly, and the smile on his face was as elegant as ever.

"Welcome to the castle, which has everything you could want. But if you want to enter the castle, you only have to pay a small price. ”

"Give over anything you feel precious, and you can rest in the castle for the night. Food, wine, beauty, luxury, entertainment... ”

Owen hadn't finished his words yet, but he saw that Song Qingwen completely ignored him and walked straight inside.

There was neither the interest in talking to him, nor the idea of paying any money for the tickets.

Owen dodged and blocked in front of Song Qingwen, and the smile on his face also converged, becoming solemn and serious.

"This... Please also follow the rules. ”

Although Song Qingwen doesn't seem to be tall enough now, he still seems to be looking at Owen with his nostrils, his expression is cold, and his eyes are indifferent: "Your rules, it's my business?"

Owen was stunned.

In the next moment, a fierce wind slashed towards Owen.

Owen hid.

His speed was very fast, but the direction of his retreat was accurately predicted by Song Qingwen.

As a result, the picture presented in the naked eye is that Owen directly hit Song Qingwen's blow.

Then the wind knife turned into a fierce wind cut through it and split it in half. The wind, which has been compressed into a thin sheet, has a sharpness far beyond that of ordinary swords.

Owen, who was lying in a pool of blood, stared at Song Qingwen fiercely with eyes like a ghost, half opening his mouth like a fish on the shore, but he still insisted: "You dare to make trouble? You dare to make trouble here? You will go to hell! You will be cursed, you have violated the messenger of God, you..." ”

The words came to an abrupt end.

Because Song Qingwen had already stepped on his head lightly, blocking the last words that Owen was going to say back to him.

Even the last words, the last cruel words, should not be said.

The name of the headshot demon lord is not empty.

Although long-range headshots are Song Qingwen's conventional means, close-range headshots... It's just as sharp and decisive.

And the reason why Song Qingwen likes headshots is because he is so neat.

There are thousands of monsters in the world, and more than half of them die with headshots.

"God's messenger, call him out and let me see!" Song Qingwen pushed open the gate of the castle, and then stepped on the blood plasma on his feet, followed the ups and downs of the music, and walked in.

Behind him, the 'white swans' on the left and right sides are still dignified and elegant, with their hands spread out and their skirts pinched.

Just like at the beginning, even the blood on the ground, Owen, who died tragically, did not cause any changes in their emotions.

In the hall on the first floor, the statue of the goddess seemed to be staring at Song Qingwen coldly.

The smell of perfume permeated the hall, tenaciously trying to dispel the smell of blood on Song Qingwen's body.

The sound of the cello came to an abrupt halt.

The rapid, manic sound of the piano came from the concert hall on the second floor.

Some black-clothed and black-faced black men, holding all kinds of hot weapons, poured out of the corridors and corners and surrounded Song Qingwen.

Window, doorway, as well as in all corners and corners, there are also many black people rushing to ambush.

A dead end seems to have unfolded beside Song Qingwen.

Although he has gained the power of the Demon Sealer, he has become a transcendent in this world.

But the energy level itself is not high, and the upper limit of the transcendent path of the Demon Sealer is still just that.

If you have a large number of sought-after shots, you can still kill them.

"Have you ever heard the sound of the wind roaring in your chest?" Song Qingwen asked the black man.

Song Qingwen raised his hands above his head, as if making a gesture of surrender.

These black men have long been deprived of their emotions and have become a group of puppets without self-awareness and desire, and they are not capable of making any answers to Song Qingwen's questions.

Their minds are confined to the last moment of deprivation of their last emotion, unable to answer questions beyond their personal abilities.

However, in the next moment, they gave the answer with their bodies.

When they breathe, the air enters their lungs.

And that air, under Song Qingwen's manipulation, rolled up a small storm in their chests.

Bang! Bang! ！

The chests of the big black men burst one after another.

Out-of-control gunfire began to strafe indiscriminately in the hall on the first floor.

However, Song Qingwen dodged the bullets in advance according to the information transmitted by the wind, and let them pass closely, but he did not hurt a bit.

Controlling the air that the human body breathes requires not a strong energy push, but a very subtle control.

And Song Qingwen has such control.

Ke Xiaoliang from God's perspective has learned another hand.

"Control, control every bit of power, so that even a relatively small force can have an unparalleled effect. It's like a small fire, thrown into the water, it will quickly be annihilated, thrown into a dry forest, but it can continue into a mountain fire that seems to destroy the world. Ke Xiao's conscience was emotional.

The black men beside him died one after another, and Song Qingwen walked lightly past them and stepped on the stairs to the second floor.

The first floor is already full of corpses and bullet casings everywhere at the moment.

But on the second floor, the singing and dancing are still the same, peaceful and peaceful.

The blonde singer stood on the stage and sang passionately.

The passionate dancers are all stepping on the flying dance steps.

Under the flickering lights, the rough palms of the gentlemen reached into the girl's delicate and soft thighs, and the torn red plum stickers were left on the smooth floor, allowing people to trample on them wantonly.

There is a smell of depravity and drunkenness everywhere.

The noisy hormones and restless atmosphere make everyone forget the troubles of life.

Song Qingwen casually shuttled through the crowd, like a ghost.

Those impetuous and intoxicating things, in his eyes, are just ordinary.

If you have seen the Heavenly Demon Dance of the Heavenly Demon Sect's Heavenly Demon Sergeant, the moonlight flying sleeves of the Lingci Nunnery's Mirror Flower Wonderful Girl, and the smile and smile of the Qingqiu or Tushan Fox Demon, then you will become disdainful of these flashy, boring, single, and superficial things.

Passed through these so-called extravagant scenes.

Ignore the delicacies, delicacies and delicacies.

The writhing waist, the swaying buttocks, and the swaying white peaks were all turned into white skeletons in front of him.

Song Qingwen passed through this formation, and even ignored some obsessed and crazy Demon Sect disciples in the formation.

He's not here to save people.

He's just interested.

Explore this castle and discover the secrets behind it.

It's far more interesting than saving people or something.

There is no irreplaceable disciple, no matter how many deaths there are... He, Song Qingwen, will not feel distressed at all.

What's more, death in another world is not real death.

In the casino on the third floor, the original gamblers have been emptied.

A middle-aged man in a black coat, with his hair combed into a big back, and a beard, was waiting there.

He had a deck of cards, a color clock, and a simple revolver at hand.

"Have the guts, take a gamble?" The middle-aged man sent an invitation to Song Qingwen.