ed a gap, and a dim streamer flew in, flying in the sky of the Shadow City like a headless fly.
In the end, I finally sensed the existence of Ye Qingxuan, and under the echo of music theory, he fell from the air and threw towards him.
Ye 新西安夜网 Qingxuan raised his hand and squeezed the thing that had fallen into his hand.
That is an ancient scroll.
I don’t know how much time has gone through, the color has become yellowish, and there are scratches on the leather. Starting with a heavy hand, Ye Qingxuan’s hand shook, almost unsteady.
In the long silence, Ye Qingxuan’s face turned pale, and the palm of his hand holding the scroll was trembling slightly.
“What’s the 西安夜生活网 matter?”
Shi Dong saw such a gloomy Ye Qingxuan for the first time.
Ye Qingxuan didn’t speak, but turned his wrist around to show him the character inscribed at the top of the scroll, the scroll’s name
five minutes ago, on the edge of town.
Under the huge barrier, the old musician knelt to the ground weakly.
He bowed his head with difficulty, looking at the sword blade 西安桑拿网 emerging from his chest, blood flowed from the wound and stained his robe red.
“Sorry, Lord Haydn.”
Lancelot drew his sword blankly: “Thank you for everything you have done for this country.”
Haydn fell to the ground.
The viscous blood slowly flowed out from his body, taking away his last life. Haydn stretched out his hand hard, stained with blood, 西安耍耍网 trying to make the last note, but the back of his hand was stepped on by the iron boots.
Lancelot looked down at him, casting the shadow of death.
“Angel will remember your contribution, but you are no longer needed.” The
blade lifted, and the blade fell.
Haydn’s head rolled to the ground, losing all his breath.
Those muddy eyes were so wide that they couldn’t stare at him to death.
Lancelot put away the blade indifferently, kicked the hindering head aside, then lifted the heavy iron box on the ground, turned his head, and looked at the child curled up in the corner.