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On the cliffs, after a breeze, everything is quiet. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 infoThe swaying grass is not shaking, the pine branches on the green pines that have withstood the baptism of wind and rain are not shaking, and even the sharp pine branches on the pine branches have stopped moving at this moment, and everything has become quiet, as if time and space have stopped at this moment, and an invisible force has frozen everything here.

At this moment, the sun in the sky was still bright, and the wisps of fresh wind flowed slowly at this moment, and suddenly the grass standing in it slowly swayed, and the pine needles on the pine branches also began to shake. The breeze is still the same, but in the passing of this world, the wisps of fresh wind continue to condense, just like the drops of water continue to condense, the water droplets condense into a long and subtle stream, and then the stream, unconsciously turned into a torrent.

The wind swept away, and the green pines that were deeply rooted in the cliff, the trunks of the trees that were a few feet tall shook incessantly, and the curved arc seemed to be broken. At this time, Zhao Zhijing's face still did not change, there was still that gentle gaze in his eyes, and his white robe kept dancing in the breeze, as if he already knew the outcome of the upcoming battle at this moment, without the slightest worry.

But for the Wanyan Sect on the side, it is not so simple, the figure standing in the mountains and rocks is like a Dinghai God Needle standing straight in the whistling mountain wind. In the midst of the wild dance of the robe, Wanyan Zong's eyes that closed at some point suddenly opened, and suddenly wisps of blood light appeared in the pupils, and it became as if it was about to drip blood at a speed visible to the naked eye, and Zhao Zhijing at this moment smelled a wisp of blood in this howling wind.

There was a red light in his eyes like the eyes of a fierce beast, Wan Yan Zong held one hand on the three-foot-long scimitar on his waist, at this moment Zhao Zhijing felt a little surprised, he didn't want the war knife in Yan Zong's hand to become so small, the seven-foot war knife before was broken, I don't know what kind of cultivation Wan Yan Zong went through later, he would choose this scimitar that was slightly shorter than his own Purple Emperor Sword.

In the midst of the raging wind, Wanyan Sect stepped out. The figure was already like a sharp arrow towards Zhao Zhijing. Between the lightning and flint, a crisp knife roar sounded at this moment, and suddenly a line of blood flashed in the wind, and Wanyan Sect had already slashed out. Zhao Zhijing, who felt the slightest hint of danger, suddenly flashed his white figure, avoiding this rapid slash.

As the clear sound of the scimitar disappeared, Zhao Zhijing's figure stopped, and after a careful glance, he saw that Yan Zong was holding a scimitar like a crescent moon in his hand, but it was not as bright as the moonlight, and some were as dark as the night sky without the slightest light, swallowing up all the bright pitch black.

A slight sound sounded in Zhao Zhijing's ears, and when he looked for the sound, he saw that the green pine behind him before had cracked a hole at this moment. The wisps of light came out from the crack that was only a line apart, which showed the power of Wanyan Zong's knife, which was originally overwhelming people before, and the strength of the whole body was condensed in the scimitar in his hand, if it was cut on the person's body, it would leave only a line of blood, but the body that was cut in the body had been unconsciously turned into two halves.

In the midst of the raging wind, Zhao Zhijing held one hand on the quaint hilt of his Purple Emperor Sword, and there was a trace of caution and excitement in his eyes. That sword-like gaze suddenly fell on Wanyan Zong's body, with a hint of inquiry. Maybe it was because he felt the inquiry in Zhao Zhijing's eyes. Wan Yan Zong slowly raised his head, and gently stroked the jet-black blade with one hand, as if he was caressing the girl's skin.

On the cliff, Zhao Zhijing slowly pulled out the Purple Emperor Sword, and the purple jade-like sword body shone with wisps of light in the wind. At this moment, Zhao Zhijing slowly spoke: "The name of the sword is the Purple Emperor! It is forged from dark iron and a variety of metals, and it has not left the body since the day it became a sword. Over the years, I don't know how many battles I've had. ”

Hearing Zhao Zhijing's words, Wanyan Sect also slowly spoke: "The name of the sword is Shura! It is forged from the fragments of the seven-foot battle knife that broke only one station ago, and the sword has not been shot since it was completed, and I still hope that Brother Zhao will advise me today!" Looking at the Shura knife in Wanyan Zong's hand, Zhao Zhijing secretly thought in his heart: "Shura knife! Shura knife! It really deserves to be the Shura knife, since that battle, Wanyan Zong's murderous and evil aura has condensed in this scimitar." The killing intent at this time is like the magic knife that slaughters the immortal god in the sea of blood of Shura, and today's battle seems to be not so simple!"

After thinking about it, the eyes of the two converged in the air at this moment, one was like a sharp sword, and the other was like a magic knife, stirring in the air and suddenly causing an invisible ripple. Suddenly, Wanyan Zong's figure flashed, and the Shura knife in his hand suddenly rose, and a line of blood rose above the blade, and the slightest smell of blood was already coming to his nose at this moment.

Suddenly, the Purple Emperor Sword in Zhao Zhijing's hand slowly raised, and the white figure fluttered suddenly like a butterfly. A red color swirled through the mountain of the sword's edge, and wisps of intense heat from the soul slowly spread out from the sword's edge. Between the figures of the two flickering, the Purple Emperor Sword in Zhao Zhijing's hand and the Shura Sword in Wanyan Sect's hand suddenly stirred on this mountain cliff. The sound of tinkling suddenly sounded in the cliff, like a breeze blowing, and the drops of water on the leaves dripped from the leaves and smashed into the deep pool, and the tinkling sound sounded like a song.

Zhao Zhijing's white figure suddenly rose from the ground, and a red sword gang suddenly came out of the purple jade-like sword body of the Purple Emperor Sword, and an unbearable heat suddenly rose, and the grass that Jian Gang brushed, the wisps of withered yellow appeared in the emerald green, and the next moment it was already dry and withered in the naked eye.

looked at the sword blade that Zhao Zhijing slashed and the hot sword gang that **** came. Suddenly, the expression in Wanyan Zong's eyes was solemn, and the scimitar in his hand was like a heavy big ring knife, and in the difficult swing, it seemed to be pushing a heavy world. Wisps of blood condensed on the pitch-black blade, and with a single slash, a thin line of sword light suddenly slipped out of the blade.

In Zhao Zhijing's eyes, this thin line of sword was like a river of blood, a river of blood that was surging endlessly, a river of blood extending from the sea of blood of Shura. The terrible ghosts and monsters who made terrible noises struggled in this river of blood, and the rich smell of blood permeated the air. (To be continued.) )