Yu Hanyan and Xiaozhu went downstairs together, and Gong Yunsleeve walked over slowly.

Everyone sat down, picked up the dishes and chopsticks, and ate.

There was nothing unusual on Yu Hanyan's face, but Qin Yan knew how well she knew, and after only a few glances at her, she knew that Xiaozhu definitely didn't agree.

This is very normal, any master who has achieved cultivation has come with a persistent spirit, everyone has a unique understanding and opinion, and will never deny their own path. Although Xiaozhu's spiritual cultivation is not high, she has also cultivated step by step over the years, and if she is asked to self-destruct the sea of qi, I am afraid that it is absolutely impossible. In other words, Qin Yan would not agree.

The meal was dull.

In silence, a gust of wind blew from outside the hall, mixed with ice crystals, and the chill soaked his cheeks. The four of them all had their true qi to protect their bodies, and the tiny snow particles that came over seemed to hit an invisible membrane and melted into the air at a speed visible to the naked eye.

However, although the trace of spiritual power fluctuations contained in it quickly disappeared, it gave Qin Yan an extremely familiar feeling.

As soon as his mind moved, his huge divine sense expanded, enveloping a radius of several miles in an instant. As a result, the great battle that was breaking out in the east of the town was clearly reflected in front of his eyes.

Many martial arts masters besieged the two.

The two people trapped in the heart, one is a gray-clothed swordsman, his sword is like lightning, although he is confined to a narrow circle by the masters, his body is still extremely fast, protecting the other companion, the sword light in his hand flashes vertically and horizontally, and each sword brings blood and screams. His companion, dressed in green armor and sackcloth, was a warlock, shrouded in a thick ice mist, and his mouth was full of words, and his staff stirred up large sparkling snowflakes, and the spears formed by the condensation of ice crystals pierced through one human body after another, and countless wounded people were immortal for a while, still wailing in the cold wind, and everyone who heard it was terrified.

Qin Yan recognized the linen and blue-armored warlock at a glance, and it was Fang Yiyuan. As for the other gray-clothed swordsman, although Qin Yan didn't know his name, he also felt the unique taste of the Po Samen from his moves and breath. And the gray clothes on the swordsman are the signature dress of the master of the Demon Gate Dark Hall.

'What are these two people doing here?' Qin Yan felt that Fang Yiyuan and the gray-clothed swordsman should have come for themselves.

Under normal circumstances, only when the master of the door personally promulgates an edict, will the master of the dark hall be dispatched. The last time Qin Yan came out of the Po Shao Gate, he was escorted by a secret hall master, and later he was ambushed by the righteous path heroes in Cen Guanling, and the dark hall master was killed, and Qin Yan almost died. This time, could it be that the Blood Wolf Monk heard the news that he had obtained the Nine Heavens Purple Mansion Immortal Method, and specially sent someone to answer it?

Fang Yiyuan and the gray-clothed swordsman were besieged by many masters, but the quality of these masters was obviously not comparable to the heroes on Cen Guanling, and there were dozens of people, but they were suppressed by the two of them. They were unable to break through Fang Yiyuan's ice wall and ice mirror for a long time, but their own defense line was rushed to pieces by the gray-clothed swordsman.

Those guys who claimed to have beaten many provinces and half the sky of the knife town could hardly even catch a sword from the gray-clothed swordsman, either disemboweled, or cut off their hands and feet, and lay on the ground and wailed in one face. The gray-clothed swordsman deliberately spared these people's lives, just to let them roll around on the ground, disrupting his own formation, and making it easier for him to attack.

And the scope of Fang Yiyuan's spell was also getting bigger and bigger, gradually enveloping most of the streets. The heroes did not distinguish between friend and foe in the vast fog, and they became even more chaotic.

After a long time of fierce fighting, seeing heavy casualties, someone in the cold fog shouted: "Withdraw!"

The masters of the rivers and lakes hurriedly withdrew from the fog, and in the chaos, they let the gray-clothed swordsman take the lives of several people. The heroes who had left a life did not even dare to pay attention to their comrades who were moaning on the ground, and hurried away after putting aside a few cruel words.

After the people left, the cold stream of ice splinters washed the battlefield over and over again, until the wounded were silent and the fog gradually dispersed.

Fang Yiyuan lowered his staff and looked around: "Are they all dead?" There are many methods in the rivers and lakes that are closed and breathing, and it is difficult to judge life and death just from the surface.

The gray-clothed swordsman stepped forward silently, and the thin sword in his hand picked up the corpses one by one, and made up a sword in everyone's throat and heart.

He walked slowly over to an overturned carriage. This carriage was the starting point of the outbreak of the battle, and the fighting was the most intense, and there were the most corpses nearby. At that time, the gray-clothed swordsman thought that there was some important person hidden here, and wanted to rush in several times, but he was desperately blocked by the martial arts people, and he himself suffered several deep and shallow wounds here. Later, he had to abandon this idea and leave the carriage, which bit by little wore out the fighting spirit of the other party.

Until now, the gray-clothed swordsman was still curious about what was hidden in the carriage, and asked those people to guard it regardless of life and death.

With a single sword, he picked open the cracked mahogany plank, and the brass boxes stacked in the carriage came into view. He took out a box and lifted the lid, and the dazzling brilliance that suddenly radiated dazzled his eyes.

"Is it gold?" Fang Yiyuan was also surprised. With his cultivation, he was also dazzled, and he didn't dare to look directly at the things in the box.

The gray-clothed swordsman replied, "No, it's a scripture." ”

"How can the scriptures have such a bright light?" Fang Yiyuan couldn't help but step forward to look at it.

"It's a true scripture that has been blessed by the Buddha—" As soon as the gray-clothed swordsman spoke, he suddenly felt a chill in his eyes, and immediately instinctively raised the copper box in his hand to block his face. "Boom!" the blade stabbed effortlessly into the brass and quickly drew it out, a shadowy figure dancing in the pearl light. The gray-clothed swordsman retreated sharply, and the shadow followed closely, forcing him to not even have a chance to swing his sword to fight back.

The copper box tumbled in the air, and more than a dozen scriptures fell to the ground with a sonorous sound like gold and iron, but no one looked at them again.

The two figures retreated and chased after each other, and retreated in front of Fang Yiyuan in the blink of an eye. The assassin suddenly abandoned the gray-clothed swordsman and turned into a dark shadow and shot towards Fang Yiyuan. His figure seemed to shrink suddenly, and he managed to scan through the sword light stabbed from the back of the gray-clothed swordsman, and handed the hideous dark blue dagger to the mage's throat.

Fang Yiyuan's eyes reflected an indifferent knife light, but he didn't dodge or dodge, he just raised a finger, and a little crystal luster quickly expanded, just blocking the tip of the blade, making a crisp sound of "ding". It was a highly condensed cryogenic force, radiating a diamond-like luster. The dagger that could easily pierce the copper box didn't leave any marks on this small piece of ice.

In the short time that the two of them collided, a layer of ice shards had already spilled onto the assassin's arm, and half of his body stiffened. He hurriedly withdrew his hand and leaned back, the howling freezing cold snap was already surging, and the entire field of vision was only white. His figure twisted into a gloomy mass again in the storm, flickering in the sword light rushing from the side, and after a breath, he had run out for more than ten meters.

Fang Yiyuan witnessed the whole process of his withdrawal from the battle circle, and let out a faint exclamation in an old-fashioned manner: "The little doll has a good body!"

The ghostly figure of the assassin paused slightly at this sound, revealing its true form. A sense of shame welled up in his heart, he turned around, looked deeply at the young man shrouded in green armor and linen, and said in a hoarse voice: "Good boy......"