Zhao Ge: 167. Night of the Crows

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Liao Qian was sitting in the coffin with a head of soil in shock, looking pale at the tip of the knife that was almost touching the bridge of his nose. The chill of the knife tip forced him to sweat in the late winter and early spring weather.

A bit of bright red blood dripped slowly from the tip of his nose.

Liao Gan trembled his lips, stuck in his throat with a “fuck” for a long time, but he didn’t dare to scold him.

“Fuck.”

Liu Wuyan scolded.

After smashing the slab of the coffin, she felt that there was someone behind the coffin, but her cut seemed so sharp, but in fact it was her own choice. It was the fat fat man who opened the coffin with an abrupt cry of killing pigs, which was shocked that she almost didn’t grasp it for a while, and almost slashed directly with the knife, but fortunately, she was closed at the last minute.

Otherwise, how could this fat man just break a little oily skin?

“Grandma Aunt…”

Liao Qian almost burst into tears.

“Okay, take the knife back first, okay? If you don’t take it back, I’m going to die.”

I saw the blood dripping from the tip of the fat man’s nose quickly turned black, and some dense black lines began to appear on his white, round face. It seems to be faintly revealing a bit of evil.

The knife of Liu Wuyan has a narrow blade, but it is much longer than an ordinary knife, and there is a layer of cold light flowing on the knife. The overall knife is extremely simple, without any fancy decorations, and the handle is also solid and deep black. Such a knife looks very inconspicuous, and it doesn’t look like a woman likes to use it.

But facing this knife, the fat man hurriedly did not dare to move.

As a disciple of the Jiuzhou Bank, Liao Qian had no cultivation base, and had no talents. He also called himself a pair of “wisdom eyes” so sharp that he recognized all treasures in the world.

The knife held in Liu Wuyan’s hand has a nice name that doesn’t match the simple blade. It’s called “liuqi”.

This is one of the masterpieces of Xiao Ouyang, the master refiner.

When Master Ouyang made this knife, he had only one purpose, to forge a knife that can suppress all evils.

——At the moment, Liao Qian uncovered the coffin strangely.

Although he didn’t know what was going on, at any rate this fat man was also someone he knew in the prison tower. Knowing the basics, Liu Wuyan snorted and took the knife away.

As soon as “Liu Zou” withdrew, Liao Gan was obviously relieved.

“What’s the matter?”

Liu Wuyan condescendingly looked at Liao Qian, who was sitting in the coffin, the black network on his face had not completely disappeared.

“What’s the matter?” As soon as the knife was removed, Liao Gan honestly crawled out of the coffin. He patted the dirt on his body indiscriminately, crying and crying, “I want to ask the **** thing, how can I reply? Matter.”

Monk Mingxin frowned and looked at Liao Gan. He also had some impressions of Liao Gan, a disciple of the Kyushu Qianzhuang who had met in the space of the Difen War. But at that time, Liao Qian gave him the feeling that he was an extremely ordinary Kyushu bank disciple, ordinary and not high in cultivation.

However, at this time, Liao Qian, who crawled out of the coffin, vaguely made him feel a little uneasy.

The monk Mingxin is the son of the Sanskrit School of Music. He has practiced in Sanskrit Buddha singing since he was a child. His sacred heart is clear and his spiritual consciousness is extremely pure and sharp. For some things, some extremely incredible intuitions. Liao Gan now gives him a strange and dangerous feeling.

For no reason, Monk Mingxin felt that if Liu Wuyan’s knife was really cut off just now, this chubby Kyushu bank disciple might not really be as he showed himself, without backhand strength.

Looking still, Monk Mingxin gently turned the beads, as if unintentionally holding one of the beads slightly larger than the others.

Liao Gan, who crawled out of the coffin, lowered his head and patted the soil, then raised his head and pulled his clothes on his chest.

“That’s it. Is there a place to sit down and say no?”

On the clothes that Liao Gan tore up, there was a small tear, depending on the size and width, it seemed to be left behind after being pierced through the chest by a sword. After the tear in his clothes, I saw a dark, sword-long wound on Liao Gan’s chest.

Liu Wuyan and Monk Mingxin glanced at each other, without speaking.

Liao Gan grinned, and the big smile on his face finally couldn’t sustain. He grinned this time, and his smile was ten thousand times worse than crying.

“You can’t talk in such a ghost place, right?”

The mass graves, black crows hovering in the sky, are still chatting, the sky is getting dark, and the silhouettes of the crows melt into the night, it is difficult to distinguish, just like a time occupied by the crows.

Like countless dead souls buried here, groaning in this dim moment of heaven and earth.

………………………………………………………………

In a small farmer’s house under the city wall.

A dimly yellow lamp was faintly on the table, and the dim light shone the house half-bright. Liao Gan took off the upper half of his clothes and sat uncomfortably at the table, shirtless.

Liu Wuyan and Monk Mingxin looked at the penetrating wound on his body.

The person with the sword has a very steady hand, the long sword is not directly entered from behind, penetrates the chest, and penetrates the entire heart. Not only is it not as good, but the person who did it turned the sword around and completely choked his heart. And Liu Wuyan’s previous judgment was not wrong, Liao Qian still had traces of puppet control of corpses.

During the period of time when they followed Wang Jingzhi, Liao Qian did not die anymore.

Only later, contrary to everyone’s expectations, he actually uncovered the coffin and came back to life.

——Maybe not “living”.

The front and back sword wounds are the center. The dense black collaterals disappeared with Liao Gan’s breathing, spreading all over his upper body and spreading to the bottom of his neck.

It’s not a good thing to look at.

Liu Wuyan put his own “flowing” and “brushed” directly into the middle of the low table in front of Liao Qian.

“Say it.”

She embraced her arms around her chest.

Liao Gan glanced at the “liuqi” inserted on the table, crying, sighed, and reached out to touch his waist.

As soon as he stretched out his hand, the Buddhist beads in Monk Mingxin’s hand turned slightly.

“Wait, the buddha brother over there, don’t look like you are ready to chant the scriptures to suppress me.” Liao Qian looked at the Mingxin monk who turned the beads in horror, “Buddha jewelry is precious and light. Don’t just throw it away.”

Liu Wuyan glanced at Monk Mingxin and motioned to him not to move.

Liao Gan tugged at the corner of his mouth and put his hands on the table with a blank face.

He wanted to “slap” angrily, but from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of “Flower”.

——A short knife was gently placed on the table.