Descent of the Phoenix
Chapter 47: Xingshi asked for sin 3
The arrogant tone immediately drowned all the whispers, and there was a moment of silence on the lively Huangqu Street.
"There is no diamond, no porcelain, don't come prepared..."
"I haven’t been simple, not simple..."
After a brief silence, someone immediately squatted low.
Haoyue listened to his ear, and there was no movement at all. He closed his eyes slightly and looked at the extreme.
"Who is it? Who dares to come to our left-handed government to scatter wildly?" At this time, the Zhu paint gate suddenly opened, and a team of guards took the sword with the sword, and the gun with the gun was rushed out.
"It's her." The **** guard who was beaten, immediately pointed to the moon, full of anger and anger: "What else to say, only to enter, not allowed."
A middle-aged man who led the team saw this, his face looked sullen and looked at the big moon: "A big courage, dare to openly beat me to guard the house, what do you think of Wang Fa?"
The slightest closure of the eye is not reasonable, it seems to have fallen asleep.
When the middle-aged man saw it, he immediately burned in anger and waved his hand: "Come on, give me discounted legs, and tie it to the nine-door Admiral House. My left-hand house is a place where you can wait for a child to go crazy."
As soon as this statement came out, more than a dozen nursing homes immediately waved sharp weapons and rushed toward Haoyue.
Black hair, slowly and without wind, the murderous face flashed on the face of the moon, and the long whip in his hand swiftly swept out.
A whip, coming in from the sky, suddenly, as the lightning blows in the sky.
Just listening to the loud noise, the black light flashed past, the people around me barely saw anything, and the dust had settled.
Haoyue still squinted and did not move.
In front of her, more than a dozen big men were shot straight out in the air, and a red-red whip was slashed on the throat.
A whip is just a whip.
More than a dozen big men are vulnerable.
Lost the helmet and abandoned the armor, a dozen or so big men holding their necks and painful tumbling, the big sweat of the beans emerged from their faces, and the look was extremely embarrassing.
Closed eyes leaning against the back of the chair, the moon slowly stroked the front end of the long whip with two fingers, the face of mediocrity, the cold contempt, the contempt for all eyes.
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