He didn't dare to face the sharp edge, so he had to retreat. After two steps back, he still felt that he was within the range of the opponent's sword energy. Helplessly, he retreated again. When he took the third step back, Han Xiaohan's ghost cry also arrived. wWw.QUAbEn-XIAoShUo.CoM Ghosts cried and gods howled, and the sword energy rushed into the sky, forming a half-moon-shaped air wave in the air, crossing the ground, pulling out a long inch-deep crack, the momentum was so amazing. The man in tight clothes wanted to dodge, but his body seemed to be out of his control. All his strength was instantly sucked away, unable to move an inch, and watched the sword energy pass through his body.
"Hiss!" With a slight sound, the man in strong clothes was stunned and stood there in a daze. The long sword in his hand had fallen out of his hand and beads of sweat the size of beans dripped from his cheeks.
Han Xiaohan landed lightly three steps behind him. With a flick of his right hand, the ghost cry turned into a wisp of vague red smoke and dissipated in the breeze.
The man in tight clothes knew Han Xiaohan was right behind him, and wanted to turn around, but he couldn't sit down. "What... weapon... did you use?"
Han Xiaohan said proudly: "A dead man, why would he need to know so much!" After that, he narrowed his eyes, pointed at Duan Yingjie in the middle of the other camp, and said coldly: "Sir, I'm waiting for you!" As he spoke, the man in tight clothes suddenly screamed, and a vertical blood line appeared from the middle of his forehead to the deep abdomen. A red light flashed, and blood spurted into the air, like a petal drifting, particularly charming and dazzling. "Plop!" The man in tight clothes fell to the ground, and the gurgling sound of blood was like a hammer, hitting the hearts of everyone in the field.
Han Xiaohan's attack was enough to shock anyone from the bottom of his heart. Duan Yingjie changed color, condensed his Qi into a shape, and hurt people without being seen. Han Xiaohan's Kung Fu might not be inferior to his own. He slowly lowered his arms, leaned forward slightly, looked at the still twitching body of the man in tight clothes, and said calmly: "He's dead!" "That's right!" Han Xiaohan said ruthlessly: "He died very cleanly." "You killed him!" Duan Yingjie shook his right index finger and said: "I have a habit. If anyone hurts me, I always like to make him pay double the price!"
As he spoke, Duan Yingjie's figure flashed, and his gray figure seemed to turn into a meteor, rushing straight towards Han Xiaohan.
It was so fast that it was impossible for ordinary people to distinguish it clearly with their naked eyes. If an outsider passed by at this time, he would definitely not believe that it was a person and would only think it was a gust of wind.
When he was five meters away from Han Xiaohan, he suddenly kicked out from below, and leg shadows were flying in the sky. There was reality in the illusion and illusion in the reality, and it was difficult to tell the real move.
Han Xiaohan was greatly shocked, not because of the opponent's exquisite leg techniques, but because of the pure strength hidden in them.
Three strong winds came from three directions, rolling up air waves more than four feet high. The wind whistled and roared, attacking Han Xiaohan's vital points on the left, middle and right sides of his chest.
Well done! He secretly exclaimed, spread his legs, and took a firm horse stance. The Ghost Cry instantly condensed and formed from the palm of his right hand, and swung it horizontally from left to right.
"Whoosh!" The horizontal sword energy and the three vertical strong winds collided strongly, making a muffled sound like leather breaking. The ground shook, and dust and smoke were blown into the air, covering the sky and blocking the sun.
Han Xiaohan's shoulders shook, and he involuntarily took a small step back. Duan Yingjie took advantage of the rebound force when the two forces collided, jumped sideways, abandoned Han Xiaohan, and rushed back into the Baihuimen disciples led by Xiao Jian. He came quickly and suddenly, which was beyond the expectations of everyone in the field. Xiao Jian only felt a flash in front of his eyes. He just blinked his eyes, and Duan Yingjie was already standing in front of him, with five fingers stretched out, holding his palm as a knife, and slashing his throat fiercely. Duan Yingjie's internal strength is profound, and is definitely not inferior to Han Xiaohan. With his skills, even if he doesn't have a knife in his hand, the palm that gathers the true energy will not be inferior to any sharp magic weapon in the world. Before the palm arrived, the palm wind had arrived first, and the cold air scraped on Xiao Jian's neck, the hair ducts stood up, and a layer of small bumps appeared on the skin. Ah! Xiao Jian didn't even have time to scream. He leaned back instinctively. Whoosh, the palm didn't cut off his neck, but it cut off a large piece of his head, including hair and skin. Suddenly, Xiao Jian's face was covered with blood and he retreated in small steps. Duan Yingjie was unwilling to give up after missing the first strike. Just as he was about to move forward again, the disciples of Baihuimen on both sides reacted. More than a dozen of them raised their guns at the same time, without even aiming, and pulled the trigger to launch a round of volleys. "Bang, bang, bang!" The continuous sound of gunfire cut through the sky.