The crowd cried louder and louder, and they all fled away from the misty ghosts and gods in fear, but there were strong men surrounding them in the distance. They couldn't run away at all. They could only look up at their only hope, the god named Zhao Wujiang.

grown ups.

Zhao Wujiang felt the gazes one after another, including desire, fear, worry, resentment, and begging...

These glances, under the heavy rain, were like cold knives flashing with cold light, causing him pain. The rain wet his clothes and submerged the scratched wounds, making the pain follow him like a shadow.

He raised his head slightly, and the rain hit his cheeks. He suddenly smiled, still as gentle, but with an added bitterness.

He knows that except for some people who are born evil and are evil at heart, most people actually have a kind heart.

These people will hold resentment against the injustice and dirt of this world, and will sneer at the seemingly unnecessary kindness of others.

They seem to have experienced the world, become disillusioned with the world, and become a little indifferent.

But when they see people in distress or suffering, they can't help but feel a little pity and want to do something.

The same goes for Zhao Wujiang. He is not a holy mother or a hypocritical person, nor is he a cold and ruthless person who kills too many people.

He just...somewhat doesn't see suffering, especially the suffering of innocent people.

He had been caught in the rain, and he wanted to hold an umbrella for these people, even if it was just for a moment, that's all.

If the people gathered below were all treacherous and evil people, he would just ignore them, but in the face of these ordinary people, these living innocent people, he could not be cruel no matter what.

Especially, when he knew that he was destined to be unable to leave this Shura field, and was destined to die together with the collapse of the world.

The whistling sword energy let out a mournful cry and was absorbed into his body. He fell down and stood firmly on the ruins of the broken wall.

The road has no boundaries.

His name was Zhao Wujiang. He looked at the people whose eyes were focused on him. His smile was still gentle, but his eyes were filled with compassion and calmness.

He has mercy on the world and himself.

He accepted it calmly and cheered:

"bring it on!"

The misty ghosts and gods smiled even more. As long as Zhao Wujiang's willpower collapsed, they could capture Zhao Wujiang without any blood and gain the world's destiny contained in Zhao Wujiang's flesh and blood.

Mu Qianqian's eyes flickered, and the rainwater continued to collect along her little face and onto her chin, falling to the ground with a patter.

She remembered her father's kindness and kindness when she was a child, and taught her to be a kind person too.

But later her father was transformed into a Buddhist monk. On the rainy night when her mother left, she no longer believed that there were any good people in this world.

But now, despite being a murderer, she saw some light in Zhao Wujiang, some demeanor that she admired but hated.

She looked complicated, opened her mouth, and murmured to herself: "You are so stupid..."

The Wolf God sighed. This time when he came to Daxia Kyoto, he only brought a few people with him. He did not deceive Zhao Wujiang. There were not many people. At the same time, he promised Zhao Wujiang that he would definitely do it.

The high priest of the jade tent next to him was dressed in red like fire, but at this moment it seemed as if it had been doused by the rain, and his hair was a little messy. Next to the long autumn eyes, there were two water marks, but I don't know whether they were traces of rain or tears.

Traces of scalding.

She saw the common people of Daxia. Some people began to rush towards Zhao Wujiang, who was standing as tall as a mountain, holding broken sharp tiles or short knives.

Her nose felt sore and she turned her eyes sideways. She couldn't bear to see the next scene of this man who had been fused with her soul.

"Pfft."

The short knife sank into Zhao Wujiang's chest, and blood flowed instantly.

Zhao Wujiang had no defense.

The common man holding a knife in front of him said in a trembling voice: "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Zhao Wujiang's eyes were slightly curved, without blaming, he just smiled gently, still as gentle as jade.
Chapter completed!