Бездомная собака в моих мыслях

Глава 11

Under the moonlight, he appeared even more handsome and refined, exuding a heroic spirit.

The maple-colored internal energy spread everywhere, binding the clothes like ropes, and tangling them with the whip.

The thick, ancient tree collapsed with a crash, and amidst the billowing dust, a gleaming longsword, illuminated by the firelight and moonlight, was swung in a beautiful arc.

Suddenly, a pair of bony hands reached out from behind another tree, their fingertips pressing on the acupoints behind the maple-colored neck.

The one wielding the hammer charged forward again.

Amidst the swirling energy, there was also a left-handed axe and a pair of fists.

A knife is used to behead someone; a whip is used to strangle someone; an axe is used to rip open someone's abdomen; a hammer is used to smash someone's head; a fist is used to beat someone's chest; and a finger is used to strike someone's neck.

There is also a hidden poison, seven people, seven methods, working together seamlessly.

Such a familiar murder method!

They were the murderers in that small village massacre.

The images flashed before my eyes: a frail mother and her young child with broken necks, an elderly man disemboweled, an innocent woman with her head severed, a child whose clothes were stained with a strange poison...

Maple Leaf's murderous intent burned even brighter.

He let out a clear whistle and met the enemy head-on. The sharp sword gleamed with a chilling aura.

A warm and balmy spring night suddenly turned into a freezing, snowy day.

Snowlight.

Snowy Mango.

Snow shadow.

Snow-covered silk.

That sword strike, carrying the sound of the wind, was like half a cold and melancholic Song Dynasty poem, reciting the imagery of snow falling all around.

The world has turned into a snowy wonderland.

The world has turned into a world of blood.

This battle came suddenly and ended just as suddenly.

As she pulled the sword from the last man's chest, Feng Xuese carefully avoided the spurting blood.

The six corpses lying at my feet were all dressed in narrow-sleeved black clothes and covered with black cloths, with not an inch of skin exposed except for their eyes.

There was also someone who used poison, lying in ambush in the shadows.

"Drip!" The soft sound of water droplets.

Following the sound, the maple leaves, tinged with snowy hues, looked in that direction.

Ahead was an abandoned pond, its surface covered with a layer of lush green duckweed and a few sparse lotus leaves. In the center of the pond was a collapsed artificial hill. On a low tree by the pond, a viscous liquid slowly and meandered down the trunk, leaving a black scorch mark. The leaves of the tree were withered and yellow.

A person lay across the branches of a tree, dressed in black and masked. A liquid, whether blood or something else, seeped from beneath his mask, faintly glowing.

What a bizarre poison!

This was the seventh person skilled in using poison, but he was poisoned to death. Was it suicide?

Feng Xuese used her sword to remove the mask covering the corpse of the man who had used the hammer.

The face beneath was ordinary, so ordinary that if he changed his clothes and stood in a crowd, he would look like that guy next door—kind-looking, but without any distinguishing features.

The same was true for the others.

No one would have imagined that such an ordinary group of people would use such perverse methods to brutally murder the elderly, women, and children.

However, this is what makes a truly qualified assassin: blending into the crowd, more ordinary than anyone else, yet cold-blooded to the core.

These assassins may not be top-notch in martial arts, but their extraordinary ability lies not in their skills, but in their seamless teamwork during attacks. Such tacit understanding could only be achieved through long-term cooperation.

He hurriedly examined the bodies.

The black clothes were made of the most common cotton fabric available at the time, used by people all over the country. The weapons were exquisitely crafted, but they were not engraved with any names. There was nothing on the body that indicated the wearer's identity.

Such a meticulously planned operation was orchestrated by a group of people I'd never heard of before—so, which organization in the martial arts world trained them?

What is puzzling is why such a well-trained and well-hidden killer would so cruelly slaughter ordinary people who are powerless to fight.

Was it simply a bloodlust, or were there other reasons?

Although the enemy was completely wiped out, Feng Xuese felt no relief at all.

I always feel that things are like a black hole; once you peel away the outermost layer, you see an even deeper fog inside.

He had a premonition that perhaps, this was just the beginning.

The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Part One: The Sky Over the Martial World is Clear - Chapter Four (2)

The disheveled boy huddled in a corner of the Yanhe Pagoda and witnessed the green-robed meatball king smash the window with a single palm strike and leap out of it.

A sharp axe silently emerged from the window. As Wang Buhe charged forward, he was essentially throwing his stomach into the axe blade. Just as he was about to be disemboweled, Wang Buhe took a deep breath and twisted his body to land on the other side.

Then, a watermelon-sized iron hammer struck him lightly on the head with a "thud." Immediately afterward, the Xuan axe arrived, and with a drag and pull in front of Wang Buhe, it cut open Wang Buhe's abdomen.

On a spring night, ten thousand blood-red peach blossoms burst forth.