That year, many crows hovered in the sky of the capital. Pang Wenying looked up at the gray sky and let out a long sigh. His back leaned heavily against the white-painted wall outside Shengdefang. The wall quickly absorbed his blood like white paper.The blood stains slowly spread outward on the wall, and the texture of the wall stone emerged like blood vessels.From a distance, Pang Wenying's body seemed to be burning with a circle of raging red flames. He did feel his body burning.The muscles in the shoulders, neck, waist, and limbs all ached like they were on fire. It seemed that they had reached the limit of fatigue, and the body seemed not to belong to them.The dry trachea is like having just swallowed stove charcoal, the stomach acid is surging, and the eardrums continue to beat with a maddening sound.

There was only one feeling in his body that pleased him. The tactile sensation of the right palm gripping the handle of the knife. A broad and thick broadsword weighing twenty-eight catties, with a blade length of three feet and eight inches, and a handle length of one and a half feet. , the solid iron thallium at the head of the handle is heavy enough to break the skull of an armor.Every inch of the broadsword is designed to kill - a piece of steel full of death, a famous item in the capital's underworld. Holding it in Pang Wenying's hand at this moment, it seems to have become a living creature with flesh and blood: the original strange blue-blue blade surface is covered with layers of dried blood scabs, and there is no reflection in the faint sunlight; The jagged recesses of the blade ridge were filled with debris from muscle and viscera; the cotton and linen of the handle were stained ocher red and slightly swollen from too much blood sucking.The whole sword is still shaking and breathing...

It was Pang Wenying's hand holding the knife that was trembling. Not just hands.His whole body was shaking with fatigue.Without the white wall behind him, maybe he had already fallen down. Yet he refused to prop himself up with the machete in the ground. — Knives are for cutting people. His eyes turned up to a flock of crows in flight. The crows flew in a spin and gradually lowered, as if they were about to land and look for food. "Are you hungry?" Pang Wenying stared at the crows with a self-deprecating smile in his eyes. "...I'm sorry, I can't die yet... just wait a little longer..."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before lowering his face and scanning the subordinates gathered in front of him again.There were only forty-six people left, and most of them were wrapped in blood-stained cloth belts. "How much...?" Pang Wenying realized just after she opened her mouth that her voice had become hoarse and unpleasant, and her throat felt like being pricked by a needle every time she uttered a word. The student beside him, Zuo Feng, moved his fingers a few times and silently calculated a round. "I can't remember... about two hundred and seventy people..." The muscles in Zuo Feng's mouth moved, and the horizontal cut on his face split open again, and blood rolled down like tears.Junior brother Zhuo Xiaoyang next to him hurriedly took a piece of white cloth and pressed it to stop the bleeding.

Pang Wenying nodded, slightly pulling the corners of her mouth around the gray beard. ——Such a number of murders probably won’t happen a second time in the underworld... Pang Wenying inspected the streets and alleys on both sides.He is quite familiar with the environment around Shengdefang.About ten years ago, he had been with a widow in the workshop for a long time, and he always came here five or six times a month.Not long after he ascended to the position of sacrificial wine, he also had the idea of ​​starting a family, but in the end he disliked her.He gave her a sum of money and sent her back to her hometown.

Pang Wenying knew that she couldn't dedicate any part of her life to a woman. - Now I can't even remember her name... There was a rush of footsteps in the east alleyway, and the nerves of the forty-seven people tensed up immediately. A figure with a long knife on his back rushed out from the alley.Pang Wenying felt relieved.It is Tong Mucheng who is in charge of intelligence reconnaissance. "Good news." Tong Mucheng said, all the wrinkles on his face were moving. "Chang Laojiu of the 'Yixing' was assassinated by Zhang Jijiu. They all surrendered." The crowd cheered in a low voice, and Pang Wenying's eyes widened silently.This is the third time that Zhang Shuai's attack is so precise - what kind of magic did he use to find out where the opponent's general is hiding?Really worthy of the title of "Curse Army Master".

But Pang Wenying knew that the situation had not changed.The remaining six rival gangs will get the news, only more determined to step up the offensive. "There is another bad news." Tong Mucheng swallowed his saliva. "When I came back, I passed by Lan Yifang, and saw...the head of Mongolian sacrificial wine hanging on the top of the gate of the workshop." Everyone immediately replied silent. Pang Wenying closed his eyes again. Half of "Feng Yilong's six cups of sacrificial wine" died within a day.Except for the steady Rong Yushan who is responsible for guarding Boss Han, only him and Zhang Shuai are left on the forward line...

—and the day is not over yet... "Where's Senior Brother Yan?" Shen Bingchen asked, his eyes still inspecting the cracks of the two swords in his hands. "Any news about him?" Yan Tianhuan, the head of Pang Wenying's "five great students", is already the last hope of "Feng Yilong".He broke out of the city alone at noon, determined to regroup the remnants of the defeated soldiers outside the city, and return to the capital for the final counterattack.But until now there is still no news... Tong Mucheng looked at Shen Bingchen and Pang Wenying, then slowly shook his head.

Pang Wenying's eyes opened again at this time. As long as he thinks of Yan Tianhuan, he is like drinking a strong medicine in a hurry, and his fifty-three-year-old body stops shaking.Back Xiang finally left the white wall. The blood-red mark of Pang Wenying's broad and strong body was clearly left on the wall. "Let's go out of the city to meet him." Pang Wenying waved the big knife in his hand. "By the way, lead the main force of the enemy to the outskirts of Beijing, and then attack back and forth with Tianhuan to annihilate them in one fell swoop." "But..." Tong Mucheng's face was full of hesitation.

"He will definitely come back." Pang Wenying firmly predicted: "My most beloved disciple will eventually bring his army back to Kyoto to decide the fate of everyone here."