Since then, these tens of millions of eyes have always been on Qing Han.

Qing Han's afterglow swept slightly, there were unkindness, dodge, shock, and anger......

They all slowly approached him in unison.

Faintly surrounded a large circle around him.

You don't have to look behind you to feel it clearly.

The cold gaze of a poisonous snake, stretching its fangs and eagerly trying.

Qing Han whistled, and the horses in the trough ran towards him.

Unhurriedly, he unfurled the hem of his clothes, pressed the horse's back and turned over.

This horse is born with intelligence, and his human nature is acquired, and he walks through sparse areas with broken steps.

It was on the edge of the shrunken circle, its big eyes flickering, and it didn't dare to move.

Qing Han no longer controlled Yin Han's spiritual power, and almost completely released it.

The temperature in the camp dropped sharply, and the water vapor in the air turned to frost.

The breathless pressure suddenly rose, and the invisible Yin Killing Resentment made them tremble.

Nan Chaosong stared at Qing Han's back, his face was dark and uncertain.

He gestured to the few people who were waiting for his instructions, and walked towards the tent with a disgruntled expression.

There were a few of them, who were calmer, who wore unusual armor, and who were hidden among the many soldiers.

From this extremely eerie and quiet atmosphere, a simple command was thrown loudly everywhere:

"Spread out!"

Give way ahead.

Without waiting for Qing Han to pull the reins, the horse neighed loudly, and then ran fast.

Soon he passed through the camp gate and ran for another hour.

Entering a maple forest, there was silence along the way.

The hooves were lifted, and the strong wind swept away, taking away pieces of red maple.

From the hillock, the red smoke shrouded the ten-mile long slope.

Qing Han stretched out his hand and patted the horse's head, but the horse stopped walking.

His face was expressionless at this time, and his thin lips squirmed slightly.

The horse glanced back at him, his eyes confused and puzzled.

Qing Han stretched out his two fingers to pick off the red leaves stuck in his hair.

"Back. ”

The horse tilted its head to look, flicked its tail and shook it.

Syllable!

Knock off a maple leaf hanging from Qinghan's shoulder.

Qing Han held his forehead, silently closed his eyes, and his eyelashes covered like black feathers, trembling slightly.

A hoarse and deep voice pierced between his teeth:

"I'm telling you to see if anyone is chasing after you!"

The horse's body shook, and he quickly turned his head, his lips opened and twisted, and his upper and lower molars kept colliding, and he didn't dare to look behind him at all.

Qing Han secretly shouted pity along the way.

That Zhang Yuan's blood qi is good, and Yuan Li is not weak.

It should have been absorbed while killing him.

The contracted meridians and depleted dantian can also be repaired and replenished.

It's just that the advance and retreat should be appropriate, and if you don't advance ruthlessly, you can't control the scene.

If you enter too hard, the variables will increase, and it will be self-defeating.

Thinking about it, Qing Han's face turned red, and a red arrow shot at the fire carpet.

A hint of blush hung under her lips and ran down her chin and down her throat.

"The murderous spirit breaks through the sea, the old thief is so good!"

Although Qing Han's consciousness was between blurred and awake, he couldn't help but spurt out a mouthful of blood.

But judging from the back of the quilt, he didn't show anything unusual, and his body was tall and energetic.

There was a faint cracking sound from the left rear.

Like a breeze sweeping a leaf, it finally falls gently to the ground.

Qing Leng stared silently ahead, and his voice was imperceptible.

"Go, slow down. ”

The horses were walking in broken steps at the sound of the sound, but no matter how you looked at it, there was some softness on the legs.

Ten miles of maple forest, the sound of small breaks, came from all directions.

Qing Han took a deep breath, took out a piece of yellow paper, and wiped his fingers on the corners of his mouth.

A simple symbol was drawn on the yellow paper, and he muttered softly:

"The law starts from the heart, and it grows endlessly......"

Boom, boom, boom......

"The Tao is natural, floating and floating. ”

The yellow paper burned for no reason, and the red embers gathered in Qing Han's palm.

Two dark eyes wandered from side to side.

Whoosh ......

The sharp sound of the air pierced the eardrum, and there was a faint feeling of pain.

Qing Han slapped the horse's back and soared into the air, and at the same time, the horse's body suddenly disappeared.

In the next moment, eight slender black shadows, Suo Suo passed under Qing Han's body.

Then penetrate dozens of trees around it, and nail it in the extreme distance.

Two-foot arrows, arrows pitch black.

One hit misses, draw the bow again, no intervals.

Qing Han turned sideways several times, and the arrow grazed his body.

Swallowing the red pill condensed into the talisman ash in one gulp, a force continued to rise in his body.

It's not spiritual power, it's not flesh and blood, it's not Yuan power.

Qing Han suddenly felt that his body was as light as dust, his mental exhaustion was swept away, and his mind was ethereal.

All I have in mind is to resolve the crisis and let these hidden pursuers have no return.

Another wave of arrows came at us, and the naked eye could not keep up with this speed.

In the blink of an eye, he was close to the front of him.

But in Qing Han's eyes, it was very slow.

Guided by the constant attacking arrows, Qing Han pulled out the cold sword in his sheath.

"Devour all the essence, and don't let go of the soul. ”

The gloomy words fell, and the figure disappeared and appeared.

Eight breaths of time, the cycle repeats.

One breath.

Pierces the trunk of an inconspicuous tree, bringing out a sword of scarlet when withdrawn.

A man fell from behind the tree, his blood-red eyes wide open.

The seven orifices continue to emerge with yellow breath and red threads.

Two breaths.

Cut off a tiny branch, and the red liquid splattered three feet.

The shape of the branch twists as it falls, turning into a skull that falls to the ground.

At the junction at the bottom of the branch, a headless body appears.

The mouth of the bowl twitched up and down, spewing out strands of yellow and red silk.

Three breaths.

The blade of the sword was inserted under the tree, and then it was picked upward, and several long whiskers were broken.

Strands of maple red seeped out of the ground, and the red light shimmered slightly.

Condensed into a stiff body coiled on the ground.

Four breaths.

A small dark sword light slashed out, straight into a black hole under a tree ten zhang away.

A magnified scream was heard, and one leg kicked out of the hole in the tree.

After a few convulsions, it straightened.

Traces of red water flowed from the bottom of the tree hole.

Five breaths.

Under the layers of maple leaves, four red shadows suddenly appeared.

As soon as they appeared, they were swept up in swords and swords.

Attacking the green cold that is being absorbed.

Suck out the last wisp of yellow smoke, the green and cold red face is like blood, and the red filaments are drilled in and out of thousands of holes.

Six breaths.

Qing Han let out a fluctuating moan, exuding a pungent and nausea-inducing fishy smell.

grabbed a silver light and stared at the other party's murderous eyes, revealing a grim smile.

Break the tip of the gun in his hand, catch the sharpness, and stab the person in the chest.

Then he turned to the left side of his body and kicked the short knife that was slashing towards the neck.

Roll over and wrap your legs around his neck and snap it off with a hard curl.

He still had a glimmer of life, so he smashed the meaningless struggle with a sword.

Seventh breath.

A petite black shadow appeared in front and behind at the same time.

But in the blink of an eye.

A straight short dagger pressed against Qing Han's chest, and a faint fragrance penetrated into Qing Han's nose from the bottom up.

A thin arm went around Qing Han's right shoulder, stretched out a white and soft little hand, and grasped a small curved sickle, hooking it to Qing Han's throat.

Without pause, they plunged into Qing Han's chest and pierced Qing Han's throat.

A pillar of red splattered, a touch of scarlet to the sky.

Qing Han's eyes dimmed, his knees bent suddenly, and he fell to the ground weakly.

The words are gentle but unforgiving:

"Dead. ”

"Yes. ”

Eighth breath.

The dark blade pierced a man's neck, and drops of blood fell on the tip of the sword, clanging.

One arm is passed through the other's chest.