"It's great that you're okay!"
Back to the palace.
Su Li jumped up, like a flying swallow, and threw herself into Jiang Zirou's arms.
"Well, I'm fine."
The two touched each other, feeling dizzy, Jiang Zirou wrapped his arms around Su Li's slender waist, and put his arms around Su Li's slender waist gently.
"Thank you for taking care of me these days."
"Hey... You're welcome, just remember to treat me to bamboo shoot paste next time."
Su Li stretched out his hand, with a smile on his face, warm as the sun.
"Go to practice."
"There are still some things to deal with in the imperial army."
Ling Xiao, Jiang Longxiang, and Jiang Longxiang each made excuses to leave, but as for selflessness
He couldn't wait to go to the dungeon to find people.
"During this time, I was worried about you and scared... "
The two walked towards the scripture storage pavilion together.
While talking and chatting, Jiang Zirou became a saint, and his cultivation was exposed, which caused a storm in the entire Great Xia and even the entire Origin Continent.
However, the Sutra Pavilion in the center of the vortex is still as quiet as before.
…
"The saint is dead."
On the prairie, flags were surging, horseshoes were beating all day long, and the soldiers were full of fighting spirit.
The Monarch's face was pale.
"How can I do that?"
He tried hard to keep calm, but the trembling lips exposed him because of fear: "Saint, two or three appeared in a thousand years, why did they suddenly disappear?"
"Skills are not as good as people..."
The second disciple, Gan He, was holding a long sword in his arms, dressed in white snow, with a calm expression on his face.
"Is this news true?"
The king couldn't help but ask again, at this moment, how much he wished that he was having a nightmare.
"Can the news sent back by Senior Brother Yang Meng be fake?"
With a trace of sadness on Gan He's face, he still advised: "Accept the reality."
"Report! Your Majesty, the 200,000 vanguard troops are ready and can be sent to Taizhou, Jinzhou and other places at any time!"
A red BMW came running from a distance.
The majestic military general supported himself with one hand, got off his horse, and knelt down in front of the king.
He took a long breath and his face was glowing red, obviously he was an extremely powerful martial arts practitioner.
In fact, cracks appeared in the high wall of gray mist, and those who went from the new world to the origin world, besides those practitioners with malicious intentions, also had the richer and purer vitality of the new world.
This is a kind of weakened vitality recovery.
Practitioners in the entire origin world can already feel that the vitality of this world has become more intense, and practice has become easier.
And until someday in the future.
The high wall of gray mist dissipates completely, and the concentration of vitality in the original world will be the same as that in the new world.
From a spiritual point of view, this is a good thing.
But from a survival point of view, it is a bad thing.
Mongolia is located in the northern part of the mainland, the closest to the high wall of gray mist, and the increase in the concentration of vitality is also the most obvious. This is especially true for the Daxue Mountain, which is lingering with snow all year round, and is known as a holy place for practice.
It's just that the environment is too harsh, and only practitioners above the Grand Master level can stay for a long time.
"Send troops..."
The king's face was pale, he waved his hands, and sighed weakly: "Let's go."
The general raised his head sharply, his eyes widened: "What does this mean?"
"I'm talking about disbanding the army. Are you out of your mind or out of your ears!"
His face was flushed, he was roaring, his veins were protruding, and he looked extremely terrifying.
"Why?"
The general raised his head and looked directly at the king with bloodshot eyes.
"Why!?"
He said word by word: "The national teacher is dead!"
After saying this, he seemed to have been drained of all his strength, and collapsed on the ground, staring at the clouds in the sky with empty eyes.
The general looked dull.
After a long time, he turned around, led the horse, lost his previous air, and commanded the bewildered army to slowly disperse.
…
North, Gobi.
Haishan sat on a high place, watching the exhausted army slowly return to the barren grassland.
"Let's eat something."
Holding a patty in his left hand and a jug in his right, Torre came behind the seamount.
"You haven't eaten for a whole day. You are not a practitioner, and your body can't stand it."
Seeing that Haishan didn't speak.
The two-meter tall giant comforted him in a deep voice:
"This failure is not your fault... That Jiang Longxiang and those martial arts legions are simply monsters!"
before this.
As the most powerful warrior among the eighteen tribes of the barbarians, Torre believed that one person was the strongest and the strongest, and that being able to overthrow an elite centurion was already the limit.
Until he met Jiang Longxiang.
Strength, speed, and that terrifying roar... He simply couldn't imagine that there would be someone so strong that he could shock hundreds of people to death just by relying on the sound waves.
"I heard that Jiang Longxiang has a sister who is even stronger..."
Torre's arms couldn't help trembling a little, whether it was because of fear or the recurrence of the injury.
"I suspect they're not human at all...monsters from hell!"
"Snapped!"
Thinking of all the things that happened on the battlefield, he collapsed a little.
Covering her face, tears flowed from between her fingers. The last time she cried, it should have been before she was three years old.
Fortunately, the only person in front of him is his own brother.
Not ashamed!
"Brother... I may not be as brave as I imagined."
"These things will eventually become the past..." Haishan stood up, and he opened his hands, as if he was embracing the cruel future, as well as the sunset in the distance.
Torre looked at the back of his brother, who was not too tall.
I froze for a while.
"It doesn't matter what happened in the past, what matters is what we do now."
Haishan turned around.
With a bitter smile on his face, he took the meatloaf and the kettle from Torrey's hand.
"Gudong!"
"Just bring me some water next time. Not every barbarian likes to drink."
The bitter wine entered the throat, causing a burning pain.
"Abba once said that there is no sad thing that drinking can't solve. If there is, then have another bottle."
Torre scratched his head and hummed to explain.
"Then, brother. What shall we do next?"
The orange fireball disappeared into the clouds, a few geese flew by in the sky, and the cool breeze was blowing. Before you knew it, it was already autumn this year.
"I can only surrender."
Haishan sighed and said, "However, there are many ways to surrender. This autumn, I plan to go to Gandu in person to meet the saint."
"Go to Gandu!?"
Torre's eyes were wide open, his face was full of disbelief, he hurriedly advised:
"Isn't that right? You are the leader of the eighteen barbarian tribes, and you are equivalent to the monarch of a country. Even if you send envoys, you have never heard of the monarch personally going there!"
"It's okay, I've made up my mind."
Watching a pair of wild geese fly by in front of my eyes.
His thoughts were wandering, but what came to his mind was the girl he saw not long ago in the desert of Jianzhou.
"That saint...could it be her?"