The power that was holding Konoha's arms and neck suddenly loosened, but in exchange for a sharper glare. The impatient ranger pushed Konoha violently: "Go, go!" Everyone heard it clearly, and the "he" in Chu Tao's mouth was only one Konoha.

And what about the others?

When Konoha saw his situation clearly, he smiled in a low voice, as if he wanted to make other requests, but Chu Tao's back was one step ahead of him: "Don't let me see you until I regret it." "In the light of the torches, the flying purple robe is like a battle flag that does not fall—from hell, the battle flag of fire.

Konoha understood: Since Chu Xuehai and Ziyu Ling are under his control, it is a good plan to accept it when he sees it. Chu Tao just can't kill him for the time being, once he really plans to break the net, once he lets go of everything, he won't be able to get out, and at that time, it will be useless to keep the purple jade order and Chu Xuehai - he is only afraid that he will have no life to receive Jiang Shaoyun's reward.

As for this sword revenge, Konoha secretly gritted his teeth - sooner or later, it will be avenged!

He flew away from the crowd, and no one chased him. Chu Tao did not hinder him. Immediately, he felt that the only advantage of an enemy like Chu Tao was to be trustworthy. Standing up, the white robe disappeared into the steaming resentful forest mist in the blink of an eye.

Those who stayed were not as fortunate as him.

Chu Tao was silent for a long time, estimating that Konoha should have gone away. It was so quiet that only the sound of burning torches could be heard—it was the sound of each swordsman's blood boiling. Very good, his lips opened, and he only spat out one word: "Kill!"

There was no need for him to do anything, and behind him was already earth-shattering, mourning and bleeding. In an instant, the ghostly white fell one after another—and there were swordsmen who couldn't parry the attack and died. The forces of good and evil scuffled and entangled into chaos at this moment—where is there good? It's just that two groups of the most primitive beings are fighting each other, and those who step on the blood of others can survive. Under the flaming walls forged by torches, no one could escape.

A white shadow intending to flee in terror aroused Chu Tao's anger.

The cold light of the Dragon Shadow Sword rose sharply, like lightning, and stabbed straight towards that body—there was no soul to speak of, and the soul had already been crushed by this sword light. At the sound of bones shattering, the white shell cracked like paper, revealing the cold edge of the blade, blood spurted to the ground, and the white robe was soaked bright red in an instant. Grounded, trembling, not moving.

Kicking over the corpse, he wanted to see what kind of hideous face could have such a cruel heart. However, when I lifted the mask, I saw the face of a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy - the childishness had not yet faded, there was no killing intent, only the pain of death.

A tear, finally unable to hold back, ran down the corner of his cheek.

Kill, kill, kill!

Turning around, there were still patches of white shadows shaking in front of his eyes-these demon shadows, these Jiang Shaoyun's minions, there had never been a gritted hatred. The brocade-clothed guest, the short knife man, and the innocent villagers in the depths of the Beacon Ridge, and even the cats tonight—these vague shadows that have been seen and heard are shaking incessantly—the bloody faces, showing the hideousness of dying, the fear and desolation, and the sorrow—all of them instantly condensed into a force of resentment. There was only one thought in his mind: he wanted to make these figures disappear before his eyes!

He walked straight into the array of the white-clothed holy envoy alone, and suddenly it was like being in the eerie and terrifying Shura field, and in the cold light that was flying, a body shell shattered and collapsed, gushing into a river of blood and a waterfall of blood. The sound of weapons was like endless rolling thunder in the sky, rumbling to the ground, but it was more terrible than the thunder. For at this moment, wherever the sound passes, there is no living thing. The earth was also shocked and trembled by this force, and the heavens were not willing to be lonely and sent wind, sand, dust and mist to help, sweeping the sea of blood. The white-clothed holy envoys, who were still arrogant and arrogant, instantly scattered into a puddle like powder-no weapons blocked it, in this crazy stirring like thunder and lightning, the weapons had no time to block the danger, and in the end, it just condensed into blood and water.

When the east was slightly white, the killing sound stopped suddenly, like a majestic and magnificent movement being cut off at the highest high. Everyone was stunned by what they saw: the wind blew slightly, and the strong smell of blood spread in the air, but it didn't blow away—it was also condensed. The four fields were silent, and occasionally heard the rustling of grass leaves, and there was no voice, although there were corpses except for people all around.

The living were still alive, just gasping for breath and staring at frightened eyes, not daring to remember what had happened this dark night. All the dead fell to the ground, and the corpses that had dried up their blood pressed against one another. A huge pit like the open jaws of hell swallowed them up. White bones, severed limbs, and mutilated skulls were piled together, unrecognizable, as if a demon had been visiting.

In front of the deep pit, in the faint morning light, the long shadow of the purple robe flew with the wind. Only Chu Tao stood with the sword in his hand, his outfit was as messy as before, but he didn't have the slightest smile - like a bloodless and heartless ghost. His face was as cold as iron, his eyebrows were like knives—everywhere he looked, there were remnants of his sword's sweeping, and the lines of his face were extremely sharp in the reflection of blood—and he turned his whole self into a sword that cut through the night, and the edge was everywhere. The black-red blood condensed on his robes and flowed on the blade of his sword, dripping down and dripping onto the ground, causing blood-colored ripples. He stood silent in the blood, listening to the whimper of the wind, as if searching for his lost heart.

He no longer felt the dull pain of his heart, as if it was really no longer in him—perhaps, numb from the pain.

All the heroes were surprised, one by one, the hair was upside down and cold, so cold that their hearts trembled, and even the morning light was frozen in the sky due to the thickness of the cold, turning into a blood sun, which could not shine into people's hearts: no one had ever seen the Dragon Stygian Sword exert such a powerful power. Even if Chu Yuan was alive, he had never made such an earth-shattering move. "Jiaolong goes to sea", Chu Tao never let this sword move show its true face, is it because it is too tragic? They don't know whether to be glad that they actually survived the chaos last night, or whether they should be glad that they have never really angered Chu Tao.

Chu Tao turned around silently, moved his steps slowly, and came across the sea of corpses, and behind him, a string of bloody footprints was printed. The dragon sword still did not return to its sheath, and its face was still cold and dark like frost, so startled that all the heroes involuntarily retreated and avoided, and they couldn't help knocking down a few people around them, as if avoiding a devil.

But he only walked up to Wang Hong, threw the dragon sword, and when Wang Hongcheng was afraid to take the sword, he habitually took out a white handkerchief and wiped the blood stains on his hands, dusted off his body, threw it into the wind, and left two faint words: "Buried." ”

He didn't want to see it again, not even a glance, never.