Бездомная собака в моих мыслях

Глава 167

With a flick of her snow-white sleeves, a gust of wind swept away the approaching gravel, and the snow-white sleeves emitted a burnt smell as if they had been scorched by fire.

He felt a chill run down his spine; what a potent poison.

A watermelon-sized hammer continued to strike from above;

In the middle of the game, something dazzlingly bright, moving with lightning speed and a whistling sound, attacked his chest and abdomen.

The whip, its tip pointing upwards, struck him again.

In a flash, Feng Xue Se suddenly punched the ancient tree with an extremely light and gentle punch, seemingly without any force.

Suddenly, a violent panting came from behind the tree.

He drew his sword again, and the sword flew out of the tree, carrying a touch of snow, and rushed into the dazzling light.

Then came a shower of blood.

The ball of light suddenly lost its direction, flew off at an angle, and landed on the ground with a "thud." It was a sharp Xuan axe, and on the short handle, a severed hand, wearing a black glove, was gripped.

The hammer and whip followed in pursuit.

The hammer pierced the ear with the wind.

The whip, like a snake coiling on the ground.

The color of maple leaves and snow rose into the sky, and the longsword swung again, piercing towards the heart of the hammer-wielder.

An inch shorter, an inch more dangerous; an inch longer, an inch more powerful.

The longsword, linked to the arm, struck first despite being struck later; the sword's edge had already reached the heart of the hammer wielder, while the hammer was still half a foot away.

The hammer wielder's heart was pierced by the sword's energy, and in the midst of the crisis, he retreated and was forced to withdraw his hammer to protect himself.

That's exactly what the maple and snow colors are all about.

At this moment, the whip had already wrapped around the hem of his clothes.

Suddenly, Feng Xuese tore her long robe in two with a ripping sound, revealing a white outfit underneath.

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!