The most brutal battle in the world is undoubtedly fratricide, father and son. Pen & Fun & Pavilion www.biquge.info

It's cold under the rain, but it's cold to people's hearts.

The sword stabbed into the chest, spurting out bright red blood, but it was not just the blade embedded in the heart.

Zhang Weiting pulled out the sword in his hand, the evil qi on his body was already much weaker, and he only had a thin layer under him, but he still refused to disperse.

"Why don't you hide?" Zhang Weiting's hand holding the sword trembled.

Zhang Yuanjiao did not answer this question, but said: "You look very similar to your mother. ”

"Do you have affection for her?"

"Your birth was really just an accident, sixty years ago, at three o'clock in the afternoon of the fifth day of the fifth month of the fifth month, although the Taiyin Star was not visible, it was devoured by the tengu. This is the heavens that are also helping us in the Heavenly Sect, the yin energy is completely eliminated, and the yang energy is soaring. Your mother couldn't stand the yang energy and died in childbirth... Zhang Yuanjiao told the real truth.

Zhang Weiting was struck by lightning: "Impossible! I don't believe it!"

"I've lied to you for 60 years, and I can't imagine that I'm going to lie to you again. Zhang Yuanjiao tried hard to pat Zhang Weiting's head with his hand, but swallowed his last breath.

That sword was full of resentment, evil spirit, and bad luck, and it had already invaded the spiritual platform along the heart.

Zhang Yuanjiao couldn't survive.

The rain became heavier and heavier, blurring the tragedy of the son killing his father, as if he couldn't bear to watch it.

Lonely mountains rise from lonely graves, and turbid wine leaves drunken guests.

Time flies, and even makes people forget the difference between dreams and reality.

There was not much light in the afterglow of the setting sun, but even so, the hideous and ghostly dead trees and jungle refused to let go of it for a while, covering it up, and even the last color became strange.

The cloudy-eyed crow, standing on the thin branch, seemed to have lost interest in the noise, and looked at his territory blankly, as if he was extremely indifferent to anything.

The sad and mournful sound of the flute, lingering intermittently in this gloomy valley, is like the mournful cry of unwilling souls, which should be accompanied by the sound of the wind passing through the woods, which seems a little creepy.

In front of the nameless lonely grave, a half-hundred-year-old man dressed in linen and with a scorched face clutched the piccolo in his hand, with a heavy wheezing sound, blowing an inexplicable tune intermittently.

A trace of blood foam, through the flute body and flute holes, constantly dripped on the ground, and on the wine jar at the feet, the wine jar, the original bright red sticker, rendered even more red. Red with purple, particularly demonic. This person is clearly exhausted and has a short life.

Suddenly, a rhythmic applause interrupted the poignant sound of the flute.

"Good flute, good song, it's a pity..."

The sun had completely set, and in the middle of the day was a dim full moon. In this dim moonlight, a man stepped on the moonlight, standing on the treetops, shining brightly.

If there is only one word to describe this man, then there is no better place to describe him than 'white as snow'.

"The flute is a happy instrument, and the song should be a happy song. But at this moment, whether it's the flute or the music, it's not so happy!"

The person who came said to himself, as if he hadn't noticed it at all, the half-hundred-year-old man's dead eyes.

The sound of the flute finally stopped, or rather, it had to stop.

It seems that because of too much sadness being rendered, the fragile bamboo flute can no longer bear more suffering, and it is broken in two from the middle.

The two flutes lay quietly in the middle of the thin palms of the half-hundred-year-old man, and the blood soaked in the flute tube slowly flowed out, staining the thin palms of the hands.

The man in white sighed quietly.

"It should have been a happy flute. ”

"But the one who blows it is not happy. The half-hundred-year-old man said.

"Since you're so unhappy, why don't I kill you, so as not to make you miserable?" said the man in white lightly, as if he regarded the murder as a joke, but he said it so seriously.

"Okay, hurry up and kill me!" the half-hundred-year-old man leaned his head against the tombstone, his expression confused.

"In that case, then let's die!" the man in white pointed out, and all the little starlight rays remaining in the moonlight seemed to be gathered, and finally turned into a brilliant sword light, which was pointed at the eyebrows of the half-hundred-year-old man.

With a sword, the old man fell in front of the lonely grave.

"Twenty years have been like a dream, and now the dream wakes up into the red dust. He ascends to the sky and becomes a dragon day every day, don't forget this realm and wake up. ”

As the corpse of the half-hundred-year-old man fell, the last wisps of yin, evil, and resentment also dissipated.

And in the next moment, in reality, the wind and clouds changed color, and the sky turned yellow.

The vast aura was all gathered around the sixty-year-old Zhang Weiting, and even put on a magic robe drawn by the aura for him.

Zhang Weiting opened his eyes and saw an extremely excited face.

"Dad, aren't you..."

Zhang Yuanjiao stepped forward and looked at Zhang Weiting carefully, and then said: "This is all thanks to the dream master, one dream for twenty years, it is really a good means, a good miracle." ”

Gu Chuanxia said: "This also requires the cooperation of Zhang, if you don't fight with him, I am afraid that I will not be able to eliminate the resentment and evil spirit on his body." ”

"But only that last trace of evil is extremely difficult to eliminate. Without the Dream Lord's means of reaching the sky, it would still take twenty years for the dog to refine this last trace of resentment and evil qi. Zhang Yuanjiao said politely.

The excitement of seeing that Zhang Yuanjiao was still alive gradually calmed down from Zhang Weiting's eyes.

He turned around and bowed deeply to Gu Chuanxia: "I dare not forget the grace of a dream! In the future, if there is any dispatch, as long as Zhang Weiting can do it, he will not refuse." ”

Zhang Weiting before a dream, this promise was worthless. After a dream, he had this promise and it was completely different.

If the plan of the Heavenly Heaven Sect succeeds, then the entire Heavenly Hanging World will change heaven and earth. Zhang Weiting will also become a unique existence, becoming the embodiment of the Heavenly Dao of the Heavenly Hanging World.

Although he is not a pure martial artist, he will be stronger than almost all martial artists. Unless there is a moment of power to break a big world, as long as he is shrouded in the Heavenly Hanging World, he is invincible.

Getting the promise of such a person is obviously also extremely beneficial to Gu Chuanxia.

Gu Chuanxia nodded and said with a smile: "If there is something in the future, I will naturally trouble you." But now, it's time for us to discuss the attack on the Gate of Heaven. ”

Regarding this matter, Zhang Yuanjiao was obviously more enthusiastic, and hurriedly said: "Then please ask the Dream Lord to move and go to the mountain gate of the Hun Tian Sect with my father and son." After mobilizing all the men and horses and discussing the matter, they immediately sent troops to lock the gate of heaven. ”

Gu Chuanxia said: "It's okay!

Three people walked together, thousands of miles away, but only a few steps.

Gu Chuanxia and Zhang Yuanjiao are both life-breaking powerhouses, and they naturally have super light skills and are incomparable. Although Zhang Weiting didn't really start cultivating, he casually recruited a Dapeng Bird of the Great Demon Realm from the mountains and forests, and sat on the back of the Dapeng Bird, his speed was faster than that of Gu Chuanxia and Zhang Yuanjiao.

(To be continued.) )