v2 Chapter 43： Warrior

The heavy rain fell, wet Zhao Polu's long hair, and also sharpened the sharp edges and corners of the hand-bow crossbow, which was obviously a magic weapon, and the grade was not low.

The robe of the Mopa Taoist hangs above Zhao Polu's head, and his movements have a stagnation. When the crossbow penetrates his throat and shoots out dozens of steps behind his head, his features are instantly stiff, not waiting for him With the sound of crickets, the entire body flew backwards with the huge force of the crossbow, and crashed to the ground, arousing numerous muddy water.

"You ..." The Taoist braced his upper body and gave a vague voice to Zhao Polu. Before the second syllable was exported, he fell down weakly and never moved again.

Zhao Polu stood up, took back the spear that accompanied him for many years, and stood in the rain in the wilderness, his body was like a javelin.

The waterfall surrounded him, with his companions and enemy corpses on the side.

The night style is cold outside, but his hot body has not cooled for a long time, because the blood is boiling in his body.

Zhao Polu raised his head and stared at the endless night sky. There are no stars in a thunderstorm night, and his eyes are bound to be dark. His eyes were not shining, mixed with sorrow that could not be turned away.

He couldn't see the light outside the night, all he saw was the same robes of the battlefield where he died in the past.

He seemed to see thousands of horses roaring in the grasslands.

Entering the territory east of Qingzhou, Tsing Yi's Yemen Gate circulated heroic posts and set off a battle with Penglai Daomen. The game was ubiquitous, and rival plays were staged everywhere.

But it was the first time that it had been ambushed halfway. The opposing party dispatched two high-strength training sessions to nearly trespass Zhao Polu's followers with nearly three times the strength.

Among the four monks who practiced Qi in Qimen of Tsing Yi, Zhao Polu was the lowest and the weakest. In the old battle of Huangli Township, he was orthogonal to Liu Da, and was hit hard by the opponent, losing his combat power instantly. However, this does not mean that Zhao Polu is really an easy generation.

Gathering the corpse of the Tsing Yi Knockmen, Zhao Polu dug a large pit beside the road.

Lost the spear, he picked up the companions' bodies and put them in one by one, straightened side by side, foot to foot.

He even knelt beside them to help them straighten their robes.

Dougong, placed on the chest of the companion, long knife, placed on the hand of the companion.

He cut many branches and leaves in the forest, and covered their bodies with tight seams and airtightness. Then he piled the wet mud into a grave.

Zhao Polu's actions were meticulous, just like when he buried his corpse in the battlefield mountain.

Standing in front of the grave, Zhao Polu was silent.

He remembered the scenes of the **** battlefields in the past. In those years, he had buried countless robes with his own hands.

The team leader who took care of him as his younger brother, smiled at the old man who had no incisors. He had eaten a steamed bun with him. He always followed the second egg behind him like a worm, and was beaten with him. The award-winning army was brave, and he fought side by side for dozens of miles, destroying the half-hundred of the prairie barbarians ...

Some of them didn't find their heads because they were cut off by the prairie barbarians; some of them were ripped apart by the barbarian monks, their bodies were incomplete; some of them were dying with their eyes wide open, telling them that Panic.

They have white-haired parents, young children who are waiting to be fed, and wives who lean on the door and wait for their return ...

The battlefield is Zhao Polu's battlefield, and the desert king court is his target, and he thinks of the army to hold the wolves all day and night.

But now, when he arrives in Pinglu, in this completely irrelevant place, he has become a killer of rivers and lakes, facing a group of unknown rivers and lakes.

Life's encounters are always so overwhelming.

Zhao Polu pulled out a wine pouch and sprinkled it in front of the grave.

After doing this, Zhao Polu bowed his head silently, put on the bucket, and turned back in the heavy rain without turning his head away from the grave.

On the official road, carrying a heavily injured swordsman in Tsing Yi, Zhao Polu ran in the rain.

He has already spent too much time dealing with the body of his companion, and it is getting closer and closer to the time when he arrives at the target location, and he must do his best.

The empty Jianmen, dozens of miles away, was the battlefield of his trip.

He had only one person left and was carrying a seriously injured companion.

But he must rush.

As a soldier, no matter whether the same robe is nearby or whatever it has become, as long as there is still breath, you must rush to the battlefield on time.

Hold the spear tightly, fight forward, and go all out.

No matter what kind of battlefield it is, whether it is facing opponents he likes or dislikes, whether or not there is a winning chance, go to war.

If born, live with the same robe; if die, die with the same robe.

Go to war!

...

Qingshui Villa is ten miles away.

Several Tsing Yi swordsmen rushed in the rain.

Dozens of gray-clad monks chased after them.

The former Tsing Yi swordsman clenched his waist and abdomen, and blood kept flowing from his fingers. He gritted his teeth, never glanced backwards, only rushed forward, his footprints in the mud behind him, straight connected.

In the footprints, a drop of scarlet was striking.

The chasing gray monks spread out in a fan shape, and the fan-shaped wings spread out during the running, forming a trend of pinching and encircling.

There was only the sound of rain and footsteps at night, and no one spoke.

The escaped Tsing Yi door never spoke, and the grey monk chasing after him didn't have any nonsense.

This situation is even more obvious, running fast to escape the birth day, quickly chasing around and gather together, there is no need to waste words and energy.

When Chen Beiwang and Mu Qingliu arrived at Qingshui Mountain Villa, they remained at the periphery of the mountain village to monitor the movement of the mountain village in order to confirm that they were moving in Tsing Yi Yamen after a three-day period, and were attacked and killed by the other party.

If Tsing Yi was not quick to respond, and retreated in a timely manner to kill a **** path, once the encirclement of the other side formed, he would have no vitality.

However, at this moment, he just escaped the mountain. There are more than 20 monks in gray clothes chasing them, several times their number, and they are not lower than them, and some monks in the middle are higher. It's just that he didn't take a shot for a while. If the distance is enough, he will be able to cast a blow.

The injured monk in Tsing Yi was accidentally inadvertently, a cricket at his feet and fell to the ground.

He was injured too much, lost too much blood, and was unable to grasp the balance of his body. After he fell, he did not stand up and ran away, but turned around and slumped back. The long knife slid across a beautiful arc, dark In the rain curtain, a white horse was cut, and the fit rushed towards the gray monk!

He has no chance of escaping the birth, and continues to make unnecessary efforts, which will only affect his companions.

Involving a companion is a felony at Tsing Yi.

Turn around and kill the enemy. After taking the initiative to break, win the first line of vitality for the companion.

The companion of the Tsing Yi Swordsman, when he flung back, his body didn't stop for a minute, and he didn't even return his head. Everyone's footsteps were faster.

There were only silent tears, spilled into the air, and combined with the rain.

After the break, the Tsing Yi Swordsmen killed and killed one person, and fell down towards the loess, where the monks in the gray coat swarmed into meat.

Several other Tsing Yi swordsmen did not get rid of the pursuit of the gray monk.

Seeing that the chase was getting closer, the captain of the crowd gritted his teeth and turned to kill the monk in the gray coat!

As the captain of this team, if the mission fails, he can hardly blame him. As the captain of this team, he is even more unable to watch and his companion dies in front of himself.

This leader killed three people.

His strength is naturally stronger than the wounded who died first, and it is in a state of heyday, but the other party has taken precautions after experiencing the wounded's counterattack. If not, he is determined to die with the enemy, the captain even Unable to die for three people.

But this is not enough.

The two killed five people, and did not cause a fundamental blow to the pursuers, but inspired their hatred.

In the blink of an eye, only two swordsmen were still running away.

The two-winged formations gradually closed together, and they seemed to be surrounded by them.

The two swordsmen looked at each other, and they felt the decisiveness of each other.

Suddenly they stopped, turned around, drew their swords, and ran!

Since you can't escape, you will die horizontally. Instead of being attacked from behind, you might as well face the enemy and die.

When the monks in grey clothes saw that they dared to turn back, they were furious and jumped out, and the technique was about to be shot.

When a drop of rain fell on the back of the sword in Tsing Yi, a strange syllable suddenly sounded in the wilderness.

As soon as the syllables rang, they continued, like mountains and clear springs pouring down like rivers and rivers.

The night wind suddenly became extremely cold.

The heavy rain that fell condensed into ice in the mid-air, fell like hail, hit a shallow pit on the ground, fell on the monk in gray clothing, and flew like arrows, bringing out the **** flowers!

The muddy water under the feet of all monks in gray clothes instantly formed ice flowers, solidified their feet, and spread quickly to their legs, waist, hands, and neck!

But all of a sudden, the leap was empty and fell heavily; those who ran forward with their feet and ran down face to face; those who stood on both feet stood as stone.

Every monk in gray has become an ice sculpture, and no monk in gray can move!

Before they were all wrapped in frost, they looked up and looked forward, and saw the top of the woods not far away. There was a beautiful and ethereal figure playing the jade flute in their hands.

They couldn't see the man's face, but remembered each other's graceful gesture.

There were only a few monks in gray clothes, and when they heard the sound of the flute, a legend suddenly appeared in their minds, which had been gone for several years, which made them desperate. Say a hundred ghosts also!

Two Tsing Yi Swordsmen turned and hugged their fists to worship: "Meet the Grand Commander!"

She put down the jade flute near her mouth, and looked through the deep rain curtain toward the brightly lit Qingshui Villa. Her tone was colder than this extremely cold night: "No matter who it is, who dares to touch me in Tsing Yi? Will pay the price of a lifetime! "