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The cold sword wind pressed across the wall, and Muye's sword flew into the air with the domineering power of the king of Northern Xinjiang who has been killing all year round.

The air was torn apart by the blade, and the howling wind overwhelmed the snow and wind, approaching Su Jin's door.

The remaining soldiers around him all froze in their movements, staring intently at this thrilling scene.

They know in their hearts that King Jie has been fighting since he was a child, and his fighting skills are far superior to ordinary warriors, and the royal scimitar in his hand is a magic weapon that has been tempered for thousands of times.

On the other hand, Su Jin's ribs were broken, his whole body was covered in blood, his strength had been exhausted, and there was only a rusty broken gun left in his hand.

Comparing the two, the outcome seems to have been determined.

"Brother Su! Get away!"

Zhou Scarzi roared and rushed towards him with a knife in hand, wanting to rush forward for help.

But Muye's blow was so powerful and heavy that it landed so fast and so close that he had no time to stop it.

Chen Shitou held the broken spear shaft, his fingertips turned white, his chest heaved violently, and there was only anxiety and weakness in his eyes.

Su Jin didn't react at all. His feet were firmly planted on the blood-stained wall tiles, and his body remained erect and motionless.

He raised his eyes and stared closely at the scimitar that was coming at him, and the countless life-and-death fighting instincts in his previous life were awakened, squeezing out all the limits of his body.

Severe pain was still surging in his chest, and his vision went black. However, all the opponent's knife paths and weak points were clearly reflected in his eyes.

If an ordinary person touches the king's blade head-on, he will definitely die.

But what Su Jin wanted was never a head-on confrontation.

He held the half-cut gun tightly in both hands, with the gun head lowered and the gun body taut, waiting quietly for the sword to fall halfway.

Just when the scimitar was about to get close to his head, Su Jin's wrist suddenly turned over.

The rusty broken gun sticks out diagonally against the side of the knife, and is precisely stuck in the groove on the back of the scimitar's blade.

A loud bang of gold and iron exploded, causing the eardrums of everyone on the side to buzz.

Muye exerted his force in the air, but his body was suspended in mid-air with nowhere to use his strength. The sinking sword force was deflected by this precise deflection.

The violent force was transmitted along the barrel of the gun, and Su Jin's legs suddenly sank, and his knees hit the stone wall hard. His trouser legs were torn, and his skin was covered in blood.

He gritted his teeth and did not give up his strength. He locked the gun with both hands and took advantage of the inertia of the opponent's dive to move backwards.

The feeling of weightlessness instantly enveloped Mu Ye's body.

He never expected that a seriously wounded Dayong soldier who was on the verge of death would be able to catch his full-strength sword strike and take advantage of the situation to break the move.

The center of gravity was completely unbalanced, and the burly body stumbled forward uncontrollably, falling heavily onto the inner wall platform.

Muye's eyes flashed with anger and surprise.

He had been campaigning in northern Xinjiang for more than ten years and killed countless Dayong generals. There had never been a single border soldier who could force himself to lose his composure in a desperate situation.

"Some tricks."

Mu Ye gave a deep shout, suppressed his unbalanced figure, stepped firmly on the wall bricks, swept the scimitar smoothly, and slashed back from the ground, cutting straight into Su Jin's lower body.

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