The patter of rain.
It landed on the ground, splashing water two feet high.
Nie Zhangqing held the butcher's knife, his eyes were red, and the rain ran down his cheeks, like earthworms, sliding down.
He was crazy, unwilling, and full of evil spirits.
What should come will come after all, after hiding for five years, I still can't hide.
The white blade was dazzling, and it swung past with a trembling sound, as if cutting a raindrop in half, drowning out the sound of continuous heavy rain.
High-frequency stepping of the footsteps.
Nie Zhangqing let out a low growl, and cut the butcher's knife across an arc in his hand.
The two assassins spurted out their energy and blood, blasting away the rainwater around them.
Ding Ding!
The white blade collided with the butcher's knife.
The three of them crossed each other across the ground of the alley, and the accumulated water splashed several feet. The dark red blood, mixed with the rain, stained the ground red, but it was quickly washed away.
A bone-deep wound started from Nie Changqing's shoulder and spread to his lower abdomen, from which blood flowed out.
However, of the two assassins, one of the two assassins splattered an inch of blood, his upper body was chopped off at the waist, and fell to the ground, while the other turned around and continued to step on the water to kill Nie Zhangqing.
Nie Zhangqing's hand holding the butcher's knife began to tremble.
far away.
Nie Shuang still didn't listen to Nie Changqing's words, he ran a few steps, then turned his head, and saw his father hacking a man to death with a butcher's knife.
It turned out that it was not only a pig-killing knife, but also a killing knife.
And Nie Zhangqing himself was blood-stained on the coarse cloth.
The young Nie Shuang suffered a mental shock for the first time.
After all, he was just a child, standing stiffly in the rain, crying loudly, his voice tearing, mixed with fear, mixed with worry for his father.
But Nie Changqing could no longer care about him.
Today, these assassins are not dead, but he and Nie Shuang are the ones who die.
The butcher's knife fluttered in his hand, ferocious and crazy. Although it seemed to be out of order, there was a special trajectory hidden in it.
The remaining assassin was forced back again and again by a butcher's knife.
The end of the alley.
The only standing figure in coir raincoat and bamboo hat moved.
He took a step and took out a wooden flute.
Playing softly, the sound of the flute actually overshadowed the sound of the torrential rain, lingering in the alley.
Pooh.
Nie Changqing's butcher's knife pierced through the assassin's back, splashing blood.
He stood unsteadily, holding the butcher's knife, staring at the slowly walking figure, the rain dripped down his chin, his expression was full of unwillingness.
"A piece of "Chao Shui Ballad", Daozong Ninth Han Lianxiao."
Nie Zhangqing looked through the rain curtain and said.
Continuous rain.
Wearing a bamboo hat and coir raincoat, Han Lianxiao, who was playing the wooden flute, walked slowly.
However, before he knew it, he had already arrived in front of Nie Zhangqing.
The song is over.
Under the bamboo hat, a handsome man's face with drooping temples was revealed.
"The tenth Daozong 'Wu Shuang Dao'...the style is still the same."
"Even if the tendons in your hands are broken, you can still easily kill two first-class warriors. Brother Nie, you really admire me."
Han Lianxiao raised the wooden flute and pressed it against Nie Zhangqing's butcher's knife. An uncontrollable force made Nie Zhangqing press the knife against his chest.
The words flowed, although they were praises, but they were full of irony.
"If Tesuji hadn't been picked, I'd kill you... just one knife."
Nie Zhangqing coughed up blood, and the blood flowed down the wooden flute, staring at Han Lianxiao.
Han Lianxiao looked at the blood flowing on the wooden flute, and frowned: "Take Shuang'er and follow me back, lower your head and admit your mistake to your lord, maybe you can survive."
"It's been five years, and I still say that... I'm right!"
The blue veins on Nie Changqing's neck bulged, and said.
"Then I can only carry your body back to the business."
Han Lian smiled and sighed.
next moment.
Qi and blood rolled, and the body wrapped under the coir raincoat shook, and five consecutive sounds burst out.
The wooden flute resting on the butcher's knife burst out with great strength.
Nie Changqing felt as if his soul had been shattered.
Mouth spurted blood.
The whole person was thrown three to five meters horizontally by the impact, knelt down on one knee in the rain, and the butcher's knife stabbed the bluestone ground fiercely, making a harsh cutting sound, which stopped the backward figure.
Nie Zhangqing staggered and stood up again.
He wiped the rainwater mixed with blood on his face, and gripped the butcher's knife tightly.
Nie Shuang's hat was crooked, standing alone in the rain.
The downpour of rain poured down from the sky, making his frail body tremble.
He was crying so loudly that his voice was hoarse.
Han Lianxiao's handsome face under the bamboo hat was cold and heartless.
He lifted the wooden flute and tossed it lightly.
The next moment, a palm was printed on the wooden flute.
The wooden flute spun at high speed, splashing out rainwater, as if a water dragon rolled out of the rain curtain.
Pooh!
In the spinning wooden flute, sharp white blades emerged unexpectedly.
Like a meat grinder, it strangled Nie Changqing.
Nie Zhangqing, who had his tendon broken, fell into the realm of a master.
It is impossible to block his move.
suddenly.
Han Lian raised his eyebrows with a smile.
Just when the wooden flute turned into a meat grinder was about to strangle Nie Zhangqing.
A long sword that was as thin as a cicada's wing and almost translucent in the rain pierced out.
With the sound of the sword tearing the rain curtain.
Ding!
The wooden flute was hit and flew back upside down.
The blade on the wooden flute was put away, and Han Lianxiao held it in his hand.
Beside Nie Zhangqing, at some point, a beautiful woman wearing a silk long skirt, holding a paper umbrella in one hand and a cicada-winged sword in the other appeared.
"If you kill someone in Beiluo City, it's someone I Lu Fan likes."
"Tsk tsk tsk..."
"This is completely ignoring me, the young city lord of Beiluo City."
A sleepy, lazy tone sounded.
The wooden wheel turned in the rain, making a clattering sound.
Han Lianxiao frowned and looked forward.
There, in the secluded rain alley, a young man with red lips and white teeth came in a wheelchair, and there were maids on the left and right sides holding oil-paper umbrellas, as if they were enjoying an outing in the rainstorm.
The wheelchair stopped beside Nie Shuang who had stopped crying.
Lu Fan turned his head to look at Nie Shuang, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"Little guy, are you happy to see your brother?"
Lu Fan said.
Nie Shuang's crying eyes were red and swollen, and she was sobbing non-stop at the moment, but she was a little dazed and at a loss.
Hearing Lu Fan's question, he answered in a hoarse voice, "High... happy."
Lu Fan raised his eyebrows, and immediately became interested.
"Then... how happy are you?"
Nie Shuang: "..."
He was dumbfounded.
Lu Fan smiled, "Are you happy that brother saved your father?"
Nie Shuang came back to his senses this time. Hearing this, her thin body knelt down on the ground with a "plop", her big head knocked down hard on the rain-soaked ground, and the bamboo hat was knocked flat.
"My lord, please save my father!"
In Nie Shuang's hoarse crying voice, there was a bit of crying.
Sitting in the wheelchair, Lu Fan nodded slightly.
Then, he looked at Han Lianxiao in the distance.
"You heard it all, I promised this little guy, so... give me face."
Lu Fan chuckled.
Holding the wooden flute, Han Lianxiao squeezed his drooping temples with one hand, glanced sideways at Lu Fan, and twitched the corner of his mouth.
"It turned out to be the young master of Beiluolu."
His voice is very gentle.
Lu Fan was laughing, and Han Lianxiao was also laughing. The two smiled and looked at each other, like old friends who had known each other for many years.
After that, Han Lianxiao's magnetic voice lingered in the alley.
Like greetings from old friends.
"If your father Lu Changkong is here, maybe you can save face."
"As for Young Master Lu... it's not worth the price."
PS: Please collect, please recommend tickets~
(end of this chapter)