Simon was shocked as if he was impermanent, rushed up, and the whole person floated like a sword, slashing at the sword from all directions.

The sword does not move under his feet, and only by locking his pupils can he keep up head-on.

Simon seemed to be on the left, and when he made a move, the giant scythe cut was the back of the heart.

Just when he thought he had succeeded, he turned around, and his long sword wrapped around the blade of the sickle.

Ximen was shocked and didn't give Jianfeng a chance to come around, and his steps fluctuated and changed, and he broke free in an instant.

The ghostly figure turned one person into thousands of troops, shrouded in the lonely shadow of the sword.

The scythe slammed down from behind, turning into a bubble on the right side, and slicing horizontally on the left, eventually stabbing the sword in the neck.

The sword was mobilizing every nerve in his body, his eyes were watching, his ears were listening, his nose was smelling blood, and his skin was aware of the quietly moving air, before he folded his sword and slashed down the fast knife.

When I wanted to retreat again, the back road was cut off by the crazy shadow of Ximen.

Full of foreheads and bodies, all covered with cold sweat, the majesty of Fang Cai has been disrupted by the madness of Ximen.

After seven moves, the pace of the sword has begun to falter.

The eyes can't keep up.

In all directions, which Ximen is real, which blue sickle is virtual, and the sword is not absolutely sure to distinguish and judge.

The ears can't keep up either.

Suddenly there was an autumn cicada crying in the forest, and the original voice was just faint, but in the tense nerves, it was actually diffuse.

The nose can't keep up.

The smell of blood was gradually spreading in the air, and at first it could rely on judging the direction, but now it was running around the entire forest.

The skin must not keep up.

There was only dense sweat on it.

Jian Ming only felt that all his perceptions had been deprived, like falling into a frozen cold pool, leaving only one body empty, ready to be slaughtered by the brute blades of the world at any time.

Even the air almost grabbed Jian Ming's throat.

Gasping for air, the weariness washed away all the precautions.

The cold light in Simon's shocked eyes had already been revealed.

Simon was shocked, didn't he see that Jian Ming had stopped moving.

The giant scythe finally showed its fangs, and in one fell swoop, it was about to cut the sword into two parts.

The scythe that was slashed by the head was no longer half a minute sluggish, and it was about to be cut at the shoulder of the sword underneath.

The entire Ink Rain Hall was looking up.

Everyone wants the sword to be able to move in the slightest.

Because it affects the rise and fall of the Ink Rain Hall, and because it guides the future of the Ink Rain Hall, people are all looking forward to the sword and calling for the sword to move.

Lu Muqing's nails were very flat, and they were clenched tightly at this time, but they were still pierced into the flesh, and the pain could pierce the heart.

Meng Qingyi could only be silent, Meng Qingyi gambled, and Meng Qingyi lost.

This is the end of two people, this is the end of two people, one stands with a sickle, and one person falls to the ground in half.

Simon was convinced.

Because in the eyes of Jian Ming, there is not a trace of light yearning to live.

The giant scythe plundered a cruel and beautiful arc that dazzled everyone.

Then, as before, the life of the sword will be buried here.

Heaven and earth, everything is silent.

Jian Ming's eyes were still indifferent, and he didn't see the light of day, and he closed his eyes, as if waiting for the execution of the scythe.

Xue Qi's eyes changed suddenly.

Suddenly it became evil, and suddenly it became cold.

Just before everyone had time to react, the heavens and the earth also changed.