Chapter 18 Dao Zong Ninth

The rain was falling.

It fell to the ground, splashing water two feet high.

Nie Zhangqing held the butcher knife, his eyes were red, and the rain flowed down his cheeks, twisting and turning, like earthworms, sliding down.

He was crazy, unwilling, and full of murderous intent.

What is coming will eventually come. Even after five years of hiding, it still can’t be avoided.

The blade shone brightly, blindingly, and as it swung past, it made a trembling sound, as if it cut raindrops in half, drowning out the sound of the continuous heavy rain.

High-frequency stepping.

Nie Zhangqing growled, and the butcher knife in his hand drew an arc.

The two assassins' blood and energy gushed out, blasting away the rainwater around them.

Ding ding!

The sharp blade collides with the butcher knife.

The three of them slid across the alley, splashing water several feet high. The bright red blood, mixed with the rain, dyed the ground red, but it was quickly washed away.

A wound deep enough to see the bone started from Nie Zhangqing's shoulder and spread to his lower abdomen, with blood oozing out of it.

However, one of the two assassins was cut in half with a "plop" and blood splattered, and he fell to the ground. The other one turned around and continued to tread water to kill Nie Zhangqing.

Nie Zhangqing's hand holding the butcher knife began to tremble.

far away.

Nie Shuang still didn't listen to Nie Changqing. He ran a few steps, turned around, and saw his father hacking someone to death with a butcher knife.

It turns out that it is not only a butcher's knife, but also a murderer's knife.

Nie Zhangqing's coarse cloth clothes were also stained with blood.

For the first time, young Nie Shuang was mentally shocked.

He was just a child after all. He stood stiffly in the rain, crying loudly. His voice was torn, mixed with fear and worry for his father.

But Nie Zhangqing could no longer care about him.

Today, if these assassins don't die, he and Nie Shuang will be the ones to die.

The butcher knife flew in his hand, ferociously and madly. Although it seemed to be random, it hinted at a special trajectory.

The remaining assassin was forced to retreat again and again by the force of a butcher knife.

End of the alley.

The only figure standing there, the one in the straw raincoat and bamboo hat, moved.

He took a step forward and pulled out a wooden flute.

The sound of the flute, played softly, actually drowned out the sound of the heavy rain and lingered in the alley.

Phew.

Nie Zhangqing's butcher knife pierced through the assassin's back, and blood splattered.

He stood unsteadily, holding the butcher knife, staring at the slowly walking figure, the rain dripping down his chin, his expression full of unwillingness.

"A song of "The Ballad of the Tide", Dao Zong No. 9 Han Lianxiao."

Nie Zhangqing looked through the rain curtain and said.

The rain continued.

Han Lianxiao, wearing a straw hat and a raincoat and playing a wooden flute, walked slowly.

However, before he knew it, he had arrived in front of Nie Zhangqing.

The song is over.

Under the bamboo hat, a handsome man's face with drooping hair was revealed.

"The Dao Sect's tenth 'Unparalleled Sword'... its elegance remains the same."

"Even though your tendons were cut, you were still able to easily kill two first-rate warriors. Junior Brother Nie, you really impress me."

Han Lianxiao raised the wooden flute and pressed it against Nie Zhangqing's butcher knife. A huge force forced Nie Zhangqing to press the knife against his chest uncontrollably.

The words flowed, and although they were compliments, they were full of sarcasm.

"If the tendons of my hand hadn't been cut, I would have killed you with just one blow."

Nie Zhangqing coughed up blood, which flowed through the wooden flute. He stared at Han Lianxiao.

Han Lianxiao looked at the blood flowing onto the wooden flute and frowned: "Take Shuang'er with me and go back with me. Bow your head and admit your fault to His Majesty, and maybe you can still survive."

"It's been five years, and I still say the same thing... I'm not wrong!"

The veins on Nie Zhangqing's neck bulged as he spoke.

"Then I can only carry your body back with me."

Han Lianxiao sighed.

The next moment.

The blood and energy rolled, and the body wrapped in the straw raincoat shook, and five loud noises burst out in succession.

The wooden flute that was against the butcher knife suddenly burst out with powerful force.

Nie Zhangqing felt as if his soul was shattered.

Blood spurted out of his mouth.

The whole person was knocked flying three to five meters sideways, kneeling on one knee in the rain. The butcher knife stabbed hard into the bluestone ground, making a sharp cutting sound, which stopped his retreat.

Nie Zhangqing stood up again shakily.

He wiped the rain mixed with blood from his face and gripped the butcher knife tightly.

Nie Shuang's hat was worn askew, and he stood alone in the rain.

Heavy rain poured down from the sky, soaking his small body and making it shiver.

He was crying so hard that his voice became hoarse.

Han Lianxiao's handsome face under the bamboo hat was cold and ruthless.

He lifted the wooden flute and threw it gently.

The next moment, a palm landed on the wooden flute.

The recorder spun at high speed, splashing rain water, as if a water dragon was rolled out in the rain.

Phew!

Out of the rotating wooden flute, there appeared pieces of sharp white blades.

It was like a meat grinder, strangling Nie Zhangqing.

There is no mistake in the poem, post, content, and read the book on 6, 9, and bar!

Nie Zhangqing, whose tendons were cut, fell to the level of a grandmaster.

It's impossible to block this move of his.

suddenly.

Han Lianxiao raised his eyebrows.

Just when the wooden flute turned into a meat grinder and was about to strangle Nie Zhangqing.

A long sword as thin as a cicada's wing and almost translucent in the rain stabbed out.

A sword chant that tore through the rain curtain.

Ding! The wooden flute was knocked away and flew backwards.

The blade on the wooden flute was put away and held in Han Lianxiao's hand.

At some point, a beautiful woman wearing a long silk dress, holding a paper umbrella in one hand and a cicada-wing sword in the other, appeared beside Nie Zhangqing.

"He killed someone in Beiluo City, and the person he killed was someone that I, Lu Fan, had my eyes on."

“Tsk tsk tsk…”

"This is completely disregarding me, the Young Lord of Beiluo City."

A lazy tone with a hint of sleepiness sounded.

The wooden wheel turned in the rain, making a rattling sound.

Han Lianxiao frowned and looked forward.

There, in the quiet rain alley, a young man with red lips and white teeth came in a wheelchair, with maids on both sides holding oil-paper umbrellas. They seemed to be enjoying a pleasant picnic in the heavy rain.

The wheelchair stopped beside Nie Shuang, who had stopped crying.

Lu Fan turned his head and glanced at Nie Shuang, with the corner of his mouth slightly raised.

"Little guy, are you happy to see your brother?"

Lu Fan said.

Nie Shuang's eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she was sobbing non-stop, but she seemed dazed and at a loss.

Hearing Lu Fan's question, she answered in a hoarse, babyish voice, "Glad... I'm happy."

Lu Fan raised his eyebrows and immediately became interested.

"So...how happy are you?"

Nie Shuang: “…”

He was confused.

Lu Fan smiled and said, "Are you happy that my brother saved your father?"

Nie Shuang came back to his senses this time. Upon hearing this, his thin body knelt on the ground with a plop. He banged his head hard on the rain-soaked ground, and his hat was flattened by the impact.

"Please, sir, save my father!"

There was a hint of crying in Nie Shuang's hoarse voice.

Lu Fan sat in the wheelchair and nodded slightly.

Then, he looked at Han Lianxiao in the distance.

"You heard it all. I promised this little guy, so... give me some face."

Lu Fan chuckled.

Han Lianxiao held the wooden flute in one hand, pinched his drooping temples with one hand, glanced at Lu Fan sideways, and curled his lips.

"It turns out to be Young Master Beiluo Lu."

His voice is very gentle.

Lu Fan was smiling, and Han Lianxiao was also smiling. The two looked at each other with smiles, as if they were old friends who had known each other for many years.

Afterwards, Han Lianxiao's magnetic voice lingered in the alley.

Like a greeting between old friends.

"If your father Lu Changkong were here, he might be able to give you some face."

"As for Mr. Lu... he's not worth the face."

PS: Please collect and recommend~ (End of this chapter)