Broken hands, broken feet, broken limbs and broken bodies.

Whether it's a monk or an ordinary person.

As long as you see this terrible picture.

I can't help but tremble.

Song Qingshu killed too many people.

So he's interested in such a bloody picture.

Song Qingshu didn't feel much.

He's just tired of such meaningless killing.

Therefore, song Qingshu has been raising the knife and falling the knife.

After cutting down a man, song Qingshu couldn't help asking:

"What are you trying to do?"

"Is it really for fun?"

"He died for a happy man."

"Such a death is meaningless."

"So stupid!"

Song Qing make complaints about Tucao.

Unfortunately, the soldiers in front of him were just ink beads.

So no one can answer song Qingshu's question.

So song Qingshu had to shake his head and sigh.

While waving a knife, the wind splashed a pot of blood, and continued to move forward boring.

The picture of terror means the will to fight.

Such a fighting consciousness.

It will bring a terrible battle.

This is inevitable and unstoppable.

Song Qingshu stood on the stone road of black xiongcheng and kept drawing his sword and waving.

There are hundreds of soldiers, thousands of people keep surging towards song Qingshu.

However, song Qingshu sometimes waved his sword and sometimes his palm, killing the enemies close to him one by one in the silent night sky of xiongcheng.

Song Qingshu's expression remained unchanged.

But there are small waves in my heart.

His every move is relentless.

Nevertheless, none of the soldiers will retreat.

"It's not human!"

Song Qingshu scolded secretly, and then returned to his mind.

The soldiers in front of him were not people

Suddenly, he noticed that there was something wrong with the eyes of these soldiers.

Not like ordinary people's brown.

It doesn't look like an unusual blue.

It's a beautiful dark black.

The beautiful is like the night in xiongcheng at this time.

Hundreds of monks broke through the void and rushed to song Qingshu.

Surround and attack like a herd of lions.

No matter how seriously injured.

Their emotions are so calm.

Even calm to appear a little numb and cold-blooded.

There was no fear in their dark eyes.

Only an appalling desire can be seen.

Desire is naked.

The source of desire comes from the eye.

The end is song Qingshu.

"Want to kill me?"

"How can it be that simple?"

Song Qingshu sneered and whispered.

Then he waved his sword and the sword Qi was vertical and horizontal.

Wow.

Dozens of people's heads were cut off by sword gas, and ink splashed out.

Looking at nearly a thousand pairs of night like eyes.

Song Qingshu felt besieged by hundreds of hungry wolves.

The air in xiongcheng became a little cold.

Then the scholar of Song Qing showed strong vigilance.

So the movement of his hands gradually slowed down.

Qing Shu of the Ming, song and Qing Dynasties has made five steps.

But every time he stepped forward, song Qingshu still felt a trace of horror.

This is an unreasonable sense of horror.

Unreasonable, but pervasive.

So song Qingshu changed one Zhang into seven steps.

Every step is a broken step, very careful.

From the first two steps to the present seven steps.

Song Qingshu didn't want to slow down the attack.

He wants the best results from every attack.

Dozens of string puppets song Qingshu will not be afraid.

But when hundreds of string puppets surged in,

Song Qingshu had to be ready.

After all.

Even a string puppet has no soul.

The realm of Yuanying is still there.

Every time song Qingshu kills one, he has a lot of strength.

So he must have his own way to kill the enemy in order to win.

Think of it here.

Song Qingshu thought twice before waving his sword every time.

It would be best if you could directly cut off the hero's waist or neck with your own sword.

If not.

Then song Qingshu also wants to cut off each other's foot.

So as to make it difficult for the other party to move and stop the wolf attack density of the other party.

All the way.

The bright red of Song Qing's book robe was dyed a little black.

The blade of song Qingshu's purple blood soft sword is a little curly.

He's really tired.

But the enemy is now.

Song Qingshu had to put his boredom and dissatisfaction into his heart.

Then he strode forward.

The iron sword weeps blood, and the blade is slightly curled.

The white shirt is bright red, and the body and mind are slightly tired.

At this moment, song Qingshu feels a little boring.

However, on the battlefield, the most taboo is the word boring.

Because fighting can't have any emotion.

When you kill, you can only think of killing, not stirring up a male song.

When you draw a knife, you can only think of drawing a knife, not singing poetry against it.

Kill, draw a knife, step forward.

None of these things have anything to do with generosity.

If there are other emotions in the battle, the intention of drawing the sword will no longer be clear.

The sword meaning is no longer clear, and nature is no longer powerful.

Song Qingshu also knew this, but he couldn't restrain it.

Because now he is too depressed

Draw a sword, wave a sword.

The sword Qi breaks through the air like the wind.

There were a few loud noises in the air.

Brush it.

No one stands within a few feet.

In this way, song Qingshu went to moxie Jia.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Eight feet.

Six feet.

Five feet.

……

Song Qingshu's eyes focused on the wall, which fell down and turned into rubble on the ground.

Song Qingshu stepped on the broken stone.

While feeling the unevenness under your feet.

Song Qingshu slashed several people with his sword, and a sense of fatigue came to his heart.

Losing a horseshoe and losing a battle victory.

Lose a battle victory and lose a great empire.

If the small cost is accumulated, it will also affect the outcome of the whole battle.

Ant nests lie thousands of miles on the Long embankment.

The iron spoon is like this in a strong cell.

The same is true of song Qingshu, who walks with a sword at this time.

He must be careful to the utmost.

Only then can we not lose any horseshoe in this wheel battle.

What's more, these hungry wolves don't know life and death or pain.

They are like zombies. They just call on Song Qingshu and won't be afraid of others.

And at this time, Mo Xie Jia didn't know when he had opened his eyes.

Looking at the smile on the corner of his mouth, it can be judged that Mo Xie Jia's action of absorbing the skill has been successful.

But Mo Xie Jia hasn't done it until now.

Then he must be waiting for a chance.

Waiting for song Qingshu to lose the horseshoe of the battle, and then a chance to fight fiercely.

"Waiting for work with ease is despicable."

Song Qingshu drank violently, cut a ten Zhang wide sword with a purple blood soft sword in his hand, and cut hundreds of male soldiers in front into ink.

Then song Qingshu looked up at Mo Xie Jia and said angrily.

Mo Xie Jia smiled:

"This is the art of fighting."