surnamed Wang

Chapter 671 The Battle of Mahayana
The eastern battlefield is located in the hinterland of Yangcang, and the battles are more tragic than those in the west and south.

Yang Cangjie invested heavily in front of its own house, and three people were dispatched in the Mahayana period alone, one of them was the evil spirit who had previously attacked the Lingyun sect.

Yang Cangjie can save him once, and naturally he can save him a second time. In order to deal with this fierce beast from ancient times, the Three Immortals Realm sent Zhao Shuquan, a sword repairman.

Both of them are at the pinnacle of swordsmanship. When weapons strike each other, they will always trigger the sword intent to tear the starry sky. However, the two swordsmen come from the same vein. They both come from the white jade tower that outsiders can't climb. Only a few moves. However, the most injured were other monks.

Evil and murderous, he doesn't care about friends or enemies. He has been locked in a small crack for thousands of years, and his mind has long been abnormal, but Zhao Shuquan can't ignore it, and he fights and retreats, leading him to an inaccessible place.

As soon as two swordsmen left, a pair of fighters rushed out from the battlefield on both sides.

Sect Master Ya Clan Zhan Lun, with the peak cultivation of Mahayana, and his height of nearly ten feet is not inferior to Li Heixiong of Lingyun Sect. Ya thorn sect is also extremely rare.

Opposing him was Fei Mi, the chief of the central court known as the "Gibbon Monkey". Fei Mi was not as intimidating in size as Zhan Lu, but he was born with unusually long arms, and his hands almost fell to the ground when standing.

When he was young, Fei Mi was often ridiculed because of his weird looks. Now he is the head of the central court and also the coach of the imperial guards. His strength is so terrifying that even Yang Dingchun, who has always been rebellious, has to politely call out to him when he sees him. Say "Fabber".

The two body refiners were obviously old acquaintances, and when they met, there was a strong fighting spirit in their eyes.

Zhan Lu grinned, pointed to the sky, Fei Mi raised his hand and shook it lightly, and there was a bang, the two of them jumped up quickly without saying a word, and the sky soon sent out a shock that was not inferior to thunder.

Several great gods left the battlefield one after another, and everyone couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, but the next moment, a creepy laughter suddenly came from their ears, and the laughter lasted for a long time, followed by a babbling singing that made the spine chill.

Many Sanxian monks couldn't help but stop what they were doing when they heard the sound, and looked up with dull expressions to listen.

The singer is a woman, with a gentle and resentful voice, telling a story of being abandoned on the night of the wedding. At the end of the story, the bride is wearing a red wedding dress and hanging from the beam in the wedding room...

After the song was sung, the cultivators of the Three Immortal Realms began to breathe shortly. They clutched their necks and struggled in pain, as if they were strangled by someone.

Just as their breathing became more and more difficult, the melodious flute sounded from the crowd, and a middle-aged monk was playing the emerald jade flute in his hand.

The sound of the flute is like wine that has been covered in dust for hundreds of years, clear and intoxicating. When the intoxication reaches its peak, all troubles will disappear, even the resentment and unwillingness to be abandoned by the lover before will be blown away by the wind.

"Snapped."

There was a clear and crisp sound of breaking in everyone's minds, and the invisible rope hanging around the necks of the three immortal cultivators was torn off. They suddenly returned to reality, panting and sweating profusely. I felt two more tears.

The middle-aged monk stopped playing and quietly looked at the Yangcang camp.

There, a woman in a red wedding dress was sitting on a chair made of bones, staring at him with resentment.

"A mere Huashen can crack my Nether clan's death-killing spell, what's your name?"

"Zhang Sheng." The man said flatly.

"How did you do it?"

The man smiled without saying a word.

It's not that he pretends to be profound, but it's really embarrassing to say this.

When a man was young, he was also abandoned by his lover. For a while, he could not think about finding a crooked neck and committing suicide.

……

Thousands of miles to the east of the battlefield, there is a strong sword aura. There are countless invisible sword auras scattered here, and strangers are not allowed to enter for a hundred miles around.

The moves of the two swordsmen have reached the tenth level. Although the sword moves and names are very different, their sword intentions are exactly the same.

The man transformed by the evil spirit tore a huge hole in the space with "Emperor Death" with one hand, and Zhao Shuquan's tenth floor was named "Yinghuo". The implication of rushing bullfighting.

Although the intention is full, compared with the other party's "Emperor Death", it is inevitable that it is not worthy of the name.

This can't be blamed on Zhao Shuquan, he was sent to the battlefield not long after he realized this move, and he was sent to the battlefield before he perfected it, and the opponent also knew the Bai Yujing sword technique, but in the mouth of the opponent, this set of sword technique was called For "star picking".

"In the post-fa era, I didn't expect that there would be people who could realize the sword intent of this deity." The two fought for a long time, and the man holding two black swords spoke for the first time.

"The posture is good, and you have seven or eight points of the essence, but to be honest, that young brat who only knows one move has more understanding than you."

What the man said was naturally Wang Lingquan who also held two swords.

Zhao Shuquan was not unhappy because of the other party's arrogance, and said in a humble tone:

"Haven't you asked your senior's name?"

"I am Emperor Xin." When the man said this, he deliberately paused, and then he said the second half of the sentence: "The title of the king is Zhou."

Zhao Shuquan was stunned for a moment when he heard the words. He was born in Jiuyuan, how could he not have heard of King Zhou's name, and the other party called the sword technique "Zhaixing", the answer is beyond doubt.

Di Xin stopped his offensive and said with a smile:
"You must have already guessed that this deity is the king of the Great Shang Dynasty thousands of years ago."

"That being the case, why were the seniors imprisoned in the crack?"

A gloomy look flashed in Di Xin's eyes, "Because this deity has fallen into the trick of the immortal."

……

The real Zhou of the Shang Dynasty was not as cruel and fatuous as recorded in the history books. Although he dare not say that he was comparable to his ancestor Cheng Tang, he managed the country in an orderly manner in the first few years after he took the throne.

As a person nears middle age, no one can escape the fear of death, and so does Emperor Xin.

He listened to the words of the alchemist and took the bait, and built a tower for picking stars in the capital, intending to invite immortals to find the way of longevity.

When the Zhaixing Building was built, the immortals really came, but they did not give the immortal medicine, but sent Di Xin to the ancient times when the world first opened.

There is not the ancient times of Jiuyuan, but a longer and larger world, with such rich aura that even mountains, rocks, grass and trees can be cultivated into monsters.

As a human race, Di Xin has unique advantages, and it took only a few hundred years to enter the realm of the Holy Void.

At that time, Shengxu was also called "Sage Immortal" because there was no weakness that occurs once every thousand years.

The Holy Spirit created the world, but did not deprive all things of greed, causing them to always assume that they are supreme. Di Xin was once an emperor. This idea was particularly strong, and he participated in the battle against the Holy Spirit without hesitation.

The battle was so fierce that most of the ancient gods lost their lives, and even the two omnipotent holy spirits also lost one during the battle. If there was no traitor among the ancient gods, the only remaining holy spirit would also be with him. go.

Afterwards, the Holy Spirit re-enacted the rules of heaven and earth, and the ancient gods who participated in the rebellion were turned into ugly monsters, and they were driven into cracks to endure the pain of chains piercing their hearts forever. The traitors among them were willing to be the lackeys of the Holy Spirit, acting as guards of evil spirits, and became outsiders. The "fierce god" in the book.

……

Over the eastern battlefield, the rumble has not stopped for a long time, and the clothes on Zhan Lu's upper body are completely torn, revealing his muscles like iron.

Body training is the top priority of the Ya Thorn Sect. Many monks seem to be bloated, but they are flexible in movement. Zhan Rough is one of them. In order to pursue extreme speed, he gave up the cumbersome fat. The opponent is under a lot of pressure.

Fei Mi's weapon was a pair of iron hammers, with slender handles and fist-sized heads. Every time they collided with each other, they would make loud noises.

At first, the two were just fighting hand-to-hand, but their physical strength far exceeds that of ordinary monks. Even if they are occasionally injured and bruised, they will quickly recover. If they continue to fight like this, there may be no results after hundreds of years of fighting, so they both picked up A handy weapon.

The stick in Zhan Lu's hand is called "Jing Zhe", which is a homonym for "muscle break". When he was young, he relied on this stick to subdue many body repairers who boasted of steel and iron, and made many people laugh at Ya Cishan for "using the power of beasts". The guy obediently shut up.

This statement is indeed true. There are very few people in the Yashi sect who can exercise their body training to the extreme. Most of their physical training is no match for those of the same level, so they must rely on strange beasts to barely equalize.

Even Zhan Yuan himself had the help of Taotie to fight back and forth with Fei Mi.

Fei Mi's arms were much longer than those of ordinary people, and with the addition of two hammers, his attack distance was no less than that of a long stick.

He didn't want to waste time on Zhan Lu, but aimed at the mount under the opponent, and attacked with two hammers in turn. No matter how dense the latter's defense was, the mount had to be hit from time to time. Sometimes Fei Mi would rather be hit by an iron rod , but also give Taotie a mouthful.

After several rounds, the rough-skinned and thick-skinned Taotie couldn't bear it anymore, and faintly showed signs of retreating. Zhan Lun stabilized his mount, put down his stick and said:

"Old Ghost Fei, you can't afford it, right? What do you mean by always greeting strange beasts?"

"Hehe, a person who relies on animals to show off his prestige, is he ashamed to say me?"

"Do you think I can't beat you without a mount?"

"Otherwise?"

Zhan Lun was originally impulsive, but at this moment he was aroused into anger, turned over and put away the mixed iron rod, and said directly to Fei Mi:
"Old Ghost Fei, do you dare to stand still and receive a punch from the opponent? Whoever yells first will be the grandson."

"It's exactly what the old man wants."

With a smile in his eyes, Fei Mi retracted his weapon as well, and smashed it with his big fist.

……

In the middle of the battlefield, a glamorous woman in a gorgeous wedding dress had murderous intentions towards Zhang Sheng. She stood up and walked slowly towards the opponent. At the same time, she held a long stick covered with white cloth strips in her hand, commonly known as the mourning stick.

The Nether tribe formed their own lineage in the Yangcang Realm, and their origins are very mysterious. Most of them are fierce ghosts who died of injustice, and the resentment in their chests has not been quenched, and they have been reluctant to go to the underworld.

The woman's name is "Ning Ji", who died in the Tao Li Nianhua, and now has a thousand years of Taoism, her cultivation is comparable to Mahayana, and she began to lead the Nether clan 300 years ago.

If Wang Gingquan was here, he would have been terrified by the other party's strange supernatural powers long ago. Zhang Sheng, who was born as a mortal, was also a little scared, but he walked through life and death hundreds of years ago, and he looked at everything better than some years ago. The slightly longer person is more transparent, so he stepped forward and said:

"Girl, why continue to be obsessed?"

"A lot of nonsense."

The woman waved the mourning stick in her hand, bringing with it the sound of whistling wind.

There were whimpers in the wind, which made people upset. Seeing this, Zhang Sheng raised the emerald jade flute, but directly stabbed it out as a weapon, and a thick sword energy burst out, which faintly carried the meaning of superior swordsmanship.

Zhang Sheng's imitation skills are top-notch. Previously, he used a series of small tricks to make Wang Bingquan suffer in the competition. Although he lost in the end, he also learned a sword technique.

The woman turned slightly to avoid the sword energy, and the mourning stick in her hand was still unabated, and smashed at the opponent with a dark wind.

After all, Zhang Shengxiu's base was still too low, he didn't dare to resist, he retreated hurriedly, and at the same time raised his hand and blew the jade flute.

A ripple swayed away, but was easily crushed by the woman holding a stick. The latter continued to bully her and raised her arms high. With Zhang Sheng's cultivation level, if he touched it, his soul would be directly detained.

The distance between the two is getting closer, and the man seems to have returned to the scene of standing under the crooked neck tree, with a noose in front of him, as long as he straightens his head, his miserable life can end.

As soon as the stick was about to fall, a figure suddenly appeared between the two of them. The visitor was dressed in plain clothes, his hands were still stained with fresh loess, and he seemed to have just returned from the vegetable field.

The old man's cultivation was at the peak of Mahayana, and he didn't see any spiritual fluctuations around his body. He just raised his hand and grabbed the deadly mourning stick.

The woman was not much surprised, she pulled back the stick and said coldly:
"Just now I failed to lure you out by threatening the lives of thousands of monks, but now he shows up on his own initiative. It seems that he is really extraordinary."

The old man lowered his hands, with a kind smile on his face, "The important thing is someone else."

As soon as the words fell, the figures of several monks on the battlefield flickered, and they all ran behind Yangcang. A look of shock flashed across the woman's face, and she turned her head to look at the semicircular magic weapon suspended in the air. A huge clay puppet blocked the way, and the old man's unhurried voice sounded again:

"Ning Ji, today the old man will let you die for real."

"Then it depends on whether you have the ability or not."

The glamorous woman quickly threw out a hemp rope and wrapped it firmly around the neck of a clay figurine blocking the way.

"Boom."

The clay figurine shattered immediately.

Like the mourning stick, the rope in Ning Ji's hand is also an unlucky object, called "hanging rope", which she locked the necks of many monks just now.

The old man took a step, and his figure became blurred. Before it completely dissipated, the deity had arrived in front of the woman, and then slowly stretched out a palm.

There was a scream from the woman's mouth, and a surge of resentment swept all directions, and the mourning stick in her hand was wrapped in black mist and hit the old man's palm.

The palm of the old man was as steady as a rock from the beginning to the end, passing through layers of black fog and colliding with the mourning stick.The black mist washed over the old man's palm all the time, and the spring mud adhering to the fingertips was visibly decreasing with the naked eye. When the mud was completely washed away, one of the old man's fingers suddenly broke from the root.

The woman was startled when she saw this, and it was too late to stop. At some point, the old man in front of her had turned into a clay figurine, which gradually collapsed under the wash of black air. Deliver a fatal blow.

……

(End of this chapter)