The heavy rain fell, wetting Zhao Polu's long hair and outlining the sharp edges and corners of his hand-Nu Senhan to the fullest. It was obviously a magic weapon, and its grade was not low.

The sword of the Taoist in the ink robe hung above Zhao Polu's head, and his movements were instantly frozen. When the crossbow arrow penetrated his throat and flew dozens of steps behind his head, his facial features were instantly stiff. Before he could make a difficult sound, his whole body flew backwards with the huge force of the crossbow arrow, and fell to the ground with a bang, arousing countless mud and water.

"You..." The Taoist forced himself to arch his upper body and made a vague sound at Zhao Polu. Before the second syllable was released, he fell down weakly and no longer moved.

Zhao Polu stood up and pulled back the spear that had accompanied him for many years. He stood solemnly in the night rain in the wilderness, his body straight like a javelin.

The Rain Waterfall surrounded him, and his companions and enemies were corpses on the side.

The night style was cold outside, but his hot body did not cool for a long time because his body was boiling with blood.

Zhao Polu raised his head and stared at the vast night sky. There were no stars on a thunderstorm night, and his eyes were destined to be pitch black. His eyes were not shining, mixed with unsolvable sorrow.

He could not see the light outside the night, but all he saw was his comrades who died on the battlefield in the past.

He seemed to see thousands of troops roaring and galloping on the grassland.

Qingyi Yamen entered the territory east of Qingzhou, posted heroic posts, and started a battle with the Penglai Taoist Sect. Games were everywhere, rival scenes were staged everywhere, and fighting against each other was common.

But this is the first time that he was ambushed halfway. The opponent dispatched two high-level Qi training sections and used nearly three times the strength to surround Zhao Polu's entourage.

Among the four high-level cultivators in the Qingyi Yamen, Zhao Polu had the lowest cultivation level and the weakest strength. In the past, when he fought with Liu Dazheng in Huangli Township, he was severely injured by the opponent's blow and instantly lost his combat power. However, this does not mean that Zhao Polu was really Yi and others.

After gathering the body of the swordsman in the Qingyi Yamen, Zhao Polu dug a big hole next to the road.

After losing the spear, he picked up his companions' bodies and put them in one by one, swaying them straight, shoulder to shoulder, feet to feet.

He even knelt beside them and helped them sort out their robes.

A straw hat is placed on the chest of a companion and a long knife is placed on the hands of a companion.

He cut many branches and leaves in the forest, covered their bodies tightly and tightly, and then he piled up the wet mud and built into a tomb.

Zhao Polu's actions were meticulous, just like when he buried his comrade's corpse in the Battlefield Mountain in the past.

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

He remembered the bloody scenes of the past, and in those years, he had buried countless comrades with his own hands.

The team leader who treated him like a brother, smiled and had no front teeth, and the dog kid who had eaten steamed cakes with him, always followed Erdan behind him like a fart, and fought with him for dozens of miles in the army, destroying half a hundred-man team of the grassland barbarians...

Some of them were not found because they were cut off by the barbarians on the grassland; some of them were broken into pieces by the barbarian monks, and their bodies were not pieced together; some of them were staring wide at the same time, telling the panic before death.

They have white-haired parents, hungry children, and wives who are waiting for their return...

The battlefield is Zhao Polu's battlefield, and the desert royal court is his target. He thinks about the army sealing the wolf's servant day and night.

Now, he has arrived in Pinglu, and in this completely unrelated place, he has become a killer in the world, facing a group of unknown Taoists in the world.

Life experiences are always like this and people are caught off guard.

Zhao Polu took out a wine bag and sprinkled it in front of the grave. Finally, he left a little, and tilted his head and drank it all.

After doing all this, Zhao Polu silently lowered his head, put on a hat, turned around in the heavy rain, leaving the grave without looking back.

Walking onto the Guandao, carrying a seriously injured swordsman in blue, Zhao Polu ran through the rain.

He had spent too much time dealing with his companion's corpse. The time he arrived at the target location was getting closer and closer. He had to show his body skills.

The Wukong Sword Sect, dozens of miles away, is the battlefield for his trip.

He was left with only one person, and he was carrying a seriously injured companion.

But he had to rush there.

As a soldier, no matter whether there are comrades beside you, no matter what your comrades have become, as long as you have a breath, you must rush to the battlefield on time.

Hold the spear tightly, stand up and fight, give your all, and never stop until death.

No matter what kind of battlefield it is, whether it is facing an opponent he likes or dislikes, whether he has the chance of winning or not, he goes to the battle.

If you live, you will live with your comrades; if you die, you will die with your comrades.

Go to the battle!

......

Ten miles away from the foot of Qingshui Villa.

Several swordsmen in blue flew and ran wildly in the rain.

Dozens of gray-clothed monks chased after them.

The first swordsman in blue was tightly covered his waist and abdomen, and blood kept overflowing from his fingers. He gritted his teeth and never looked back. He just kept running forward with his footprints in the mud behind him, connecting them straight into connections.

Among the footprints, a drop of bloody red is particularly eye-catching.

The chasing monks scattered in a fan shape, spreading their wings while running, forming a clamping and surrounding force.

There is only the sound of rain and footsteps in the night, and no one speaks.

The fleeing Qingyi Yamen never spoke, and the chasing monks did not say a word.

Such a situation is very obvious. If you run fast, you will escape from heaven. If you chase fast, you will surround and annihilate it. There is no need to waste words and strength.

After Chen Beiwang and Mu Qingliu arrived at Qingshui Villa, they stayed outside the villa to monitor the movements of the villa so that they could confirm their movements within three days, the Qingyi Yamen, who was raided and killed by the other party.

If the Qingyi Yamen had not responded quickly and retreated in time to fight out a bloody path, once the opponent's siege was formed, he would have no chance of life.

However, at this moment, he had just escaped from the mountain. There were more than 20 gray-clothed monks chasing, several times theirs, and their cultivation level was no lower than theirs. There were even some monks with higher realms in the middle, but they had not taken action for the time being. They just waited for the distance to be enough, and they could use a single blow to kill.

The injured monk from Qingyi Yamen accidentally staggered and fell to the ground.

He was too seriously injured and lost too much blood, and could no longer control the balance of his body. After he fell down, he did not stand up and run away. Instead, he turned around and jumped backwards. The long sword slid through a graceful arc, slashed out a white horse in the dark rain curtain, and rushed towards the gray monk!

He no longer has the possibility of escaping from birth. Continuing to make unnecessary efforts will only affect his companions.

Involving your companions is a serious crime in Qingyi Yamen.

Turning back to kill the enemy, taking the initiative to cut off the rear, and winning a glimmer of life for your companions is a great achievement in the Qingyi Yamen.

When the companion of this blue-clothed swordsman rushed back, his figure did not pause at all, and he didn't even look back. Everyone's pace was faster.

Only silent tears fell into the sky and merged with the rain.

The blue-clothed swordsman in the back attacked and killed one person, and then fell to the loess face and was bombarded into meat paste by the gray-clothed monks who flocked to it.

Several other swordsmen in blue did not escape the pursuit of the monks in gray.

As the pursuers got closer, the captain among the crowd gritted his teeth, turned around and snatched at the gray-clothed monk!

As the captain of this team, if the mission fails, he will be blamed. As the captain of this team, he will be even more unable to watch, and his companions will die in front of him.

This leader fought to the death three people.

His strength is naturally stronger than the injured who died first, and he is in full swing. However, after experiencing the injured counterattack, the other party was already prepared. If it were not for the ambition to die and determined to die with the enemy, the captain would not even fight to the death.

But that's not enough.

The two men fought to the death for five, but did not cause a fundamental blow to the pursuers, but instead inspired their hatred.

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

The formations of the two wings on both sides gradually closed and were about to surround them.

The two swordsmen looked at each other and felt each other's determination.

They suddenly stopped, turned around, drew their swords and ran forward!

Since you can't escape, you will die, rather than being attacked from behind, you might as well face the enemy and fight to death.

When the monks in gray-clothed were furious when they saw that they dared to turn back, they all jumped out, and the magic was about to take action.

When a drop of rain fell on the back of the swordsman in blue, a strange syllable suddenly sounded in the wilderness.

When the syllables sound, they are endless, like a clear spring pouring down a mountain stream, like a river surging endlessly.

The night wind suddenly became extremely cold.

The heavy rain that landed condensed into ice dripping in the air, falling like hail, and shook shallow pits on the ground, falling on the gray-clothed monk, and then flew like arrows, bringing out bloody flowers!

The mud and water under the feet of all the gray-clothed monks instantly formed ice flowers, solidifying their feet, and then spread rapidly towards their legs, waists, hands, and necks!

In an instant, those who leaped in the sky fell heavily; those who leaped their feet fell head-on; those who stood with their feet stood stiff like stones.

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

Before their whole body was covered with frost, they looked forward in shock and saw a graceful and ethereal figure playing the jade flute in their hands on the top of the woods not far away.

They couldn't see the man's face clearly, but they remembered the other's graceful and profound posture.

There were only a few gray-clothed monks. When they heard the sound of the flute, a legend that had been missing for several years suddenly appeared in their minds. This made them feel desperate; they didn’t hear the Yishui and didn’t know the cold, and the sound of the jade flute came out!

Two swordsmen in blue turned around and held their fists and bowed: "Greetings to the commander!"
Chapter completed!