"Swish, swish, swish!"
The monks of the Hidden Sword Sect drew out their swords one after another, their swords at war, and they stared at Zhao Wujiang and the others with anger.
"You have misunderstood again." Zhao Wujiang said with a smile on his face.
"I'm not looking for death, I'm looking for justice.
Let's do this, you all kneel down and apologize to this Zhaojiacun swordsman, and then hand over your swords, and I will let you go. "
"Boy, who are you?" the leading swordsman of the Hidden Sword Sect shouted in fear.
He felt that the three people in front of him were too confident, and they might be disciples of some major sect.
"We are all wild cultivators in the mountains, don't be afraid, we have no background." The invisible wind in Zhao Wujiang's hand was flowing, gradually gathering in his palm, and his hand was full of sword energy.
The leading swordsman of the Hidden Sword Sect was slightly stunned, feeling that he had been tricked, and laughed cruelly with anger on his face:
"You dare to come out without any background, and you dare to offend our Hidden Sword Sect. You don't know whether to live or die!"
He raised his hand and waved, and dozens of monks from the Hidden Sword Sect came towards him with their swords.
The casual cultivators watching around sighed and shook their heads. It was really unwise for the three people who came to the aid of the swordsman in Confucian robes. If they offended the Hidden Sword Sect in this place, facing the sword energy of dozens of people, they would only be chopped into pulp.
The swordsman in Confucian shirt showed fear and regret on his face. Maybe he had admitted his defeat earlier, and maybe he wouldn't have put the three people who helped him in danger.
Li Chunjun slashed diagonally to the right with his empty hand, Zhao Wujiang waved his left hand calmly, Xuanyuan Jingyun gently swayed the folding fan in the light breeze, still as graceful as jade.
Two sword energy passed between heaven and earth.
The swords in the hands of dozens of Tibetan Sword Sect monks all shattered, and blood marks appeared on their bodies. They fell to the ground with a plop, wailing again and again.
The hand of the leading swordsman of the Hidden Sword Sect that held the sword had been broken into two smooth pieces, and the broken fragments of his sword were pierced all over his body. He looked dazed, but he quickly reacted and let out a horrified scream.
Among the ruins of the ruins, where Zhao Wujiang and the others stood, blood flowed like a river.
The casual swordsmen watching around were shocked beyond measure, and their hearts were in turmoil.
They originally thought that the three people who helped the swordsman in Confucian shirts were seeking death and would be chopped into pieces by the sword energy of the Hidden Sword Sect.
Unexpectedly, only two of the three people took action, with one sword on the left and one on the right, and defeated dozens of monks from the Hidden Sword Sect.
This was still the case when only two people took action, and these two people had not yet killed anyone.
If they were to kill him, they could imagine that there would be no living person in the Hidden Sword Sect.
Who are these three people? Where do you come from? Is it really also a casual cultivator?
But if they are all casual cultivators, why are these three so powerful?
You must know that the swordsman at the head of the Hidden Sword Sect had already ignited 50% of the soul fire. He also had the Hidden Sword Sect's secret skill at his side, but before he could resist, he was seriously injured by a light sword.
"Thank you to the three knights for your help. Qilang thanks you!" The Confucian-robed swordsman bowed. Although he was a swordsman, he was actually more like a scholar.
Zhao Wujiang looked at the young scholar-robed swordsman in front of him and smiled softly:
"Zhao Fugui, do you know him?"
The scholar-robed swordsman widened his eyes and looked at the evil yet gentle black-robed man in front of him. He said in a trembling voice:
"Zhao Fugui, it's...my father..."
"Zhao Qilang..." Zhao Wujiang sighed with emotion, gently pressed his big hand on Zhao Qilang's hand, and put a long sword that was a human-level divine weapon into Zhao Qilang's hand. He smiled gently:
"You probably haven't been back for a long time. Go back and see more when you have time."
Zhao Qilang felt the powerful power that the long sword radiated invisibly. He knew that this must be an extraordinary sword, and the man in front of him was willing to give it to him in an understatement.
He quickly let go of his hand, cupped his fists and bowed:
"Thank you, knight. Qi Lang will remember it, but this sword cannot be used. It is too precious."
When the swordsmen watching around saw this scene, their eyes were full of envy, thinking that you, Zhao Qilang, are so stupid that you don't even want such a sword.
If it were given to them, they would have taken it long ago, but they could only think about it in their hearts, but they did not dare to think about fighting for it. After all, the young man in black robe who gave the sword was too powerful.
