"You have to wait for me." Fan Xian repeated it again in his heart. He let Qiuyu hit his face full of Chen Gui, and galloped towards the palace like crazy.

The palace is approaching, the autumn rain is getting heavy, there are not many pedestrians on the street, where are the people gathered? Fan Xian is a little confused and thinks a little scared, and then he hears cheers, and then he hears silence. Silence like death.

The people in Kyoto could not hear silence, only Fan Xian could hear it, and heard it with great fear. The people in Kyoto could only hear the sound of horse hooves in silence.

Tattatatatatata.

People just heard the sound of horse hooves in silence, then saw the black cavalry rushing towards him like lightning, the tattered and dirty black official uniform in the autumn rain, and the man's face immediately was full of murderous intentions.

The people watching the punishment in the square in front of the palace suddenly became restless, and the screams and screams rang almost at the same time, and the fluctuations behind the sea of ​​people were extremely chaotic. I don’t know how many people were trampled and injured.

Because the lonely rider did not slow down at all, he rushed towards the dense crowd in cold blood!

Anyone who can dodge can dodge can dodge can be knocked away by horses. In the autumn rain, the passerby of horse hoofs is extremely cold-blooded.

The sea of ​​people separated a big hole in the fear of death, and desperately squeezed to the side, giving way to the rider a passage that went straight to the small law field under the palace.

The imperial guards surrounded him. The spear was like a forest, pointing directly at the cavalry.

Fan Xian flew up silently and passed the gun forest. The man was in mid-air, and the sword was already in his hand, cutting it out like lightning, and hissing sounds, killing several long swords. He shook several inner court guards, and the people from other places had already swept over the law ground.

No matter what movements he did, Fan Xian's eyes kept looking at the small wooden platform, looking at the old man tied to the wooden rack, vaguely and dying. Fan Xian's eyes became more and more cold and resentful, and then he heard the strong wind coming from all around him.

Countless shadows of mai clothes flew up, circling in the autumn rain like flying flowers, sealing all Fan Xian's way.

Fan Xian did not retreat, and did not avoid it. Three palms were taken on his chest and back, and his sword was stabbed into the face of a man in a mahjong. He stabbed in viciously from his eyes. Blood and eye plasma burst out at the same time, mixing in the rain.

He shouted wildly, and patted his left hand horizontally with his palm. He was full of domineering intentions, only the slight sound of his wrist bones, and the man in the clothes in his left hand was shaken and his facial features were bleeding and he fell to the ground dejectedly.

With a bang, Fan Xian's feet finally stood on the wet wooden platform, but he also paid a huge price. The injury inside his body suddenly burst out and he vomited blood.

However, he ignored it and just stared at the old man on the wooden rack, the old man who had been cut by countless knives, the old man who had been exposed to the eyes of the people and accepted endless humiliation.

With just one glance, Fan Xian knew that he was late and he had no way to let the other party continue to live. His dry lips slightly opened, and he wanted to say something, but couldn't say anything.

The autumn rain fell and swept the bodies of two old and young people on the wooden platform. There was a loneliness around them. All the imperial guards, the masters of the inner court and the powerful ascetic monks in the Qing Temple surrounded the wooden platform tightly. However, under the suppression of Fan Xian's powerful murderous intent and life-desperate methods that everyone had shown, everyone's bodies were a little stiff, and no one could take steps.

Fan Xian walked forward with great difficulty, pulled off the rope, held Chen Pingping's thin body in his arms, took off his black official uniform full of sludge holes, and covered him.

Chen Pingping opened her eyes with great difficulty, but her old, turbid and scattered eyes shone with a very innocent light, just like a child - the old man was huddled in Fan Xian's arms like a child, as if he was a little afraid of the cold.
Chapter completed!