save the judge

Mustache’s memory has long been torn into meaningless snowflakes by loneliness and silence in the long darkness, like a storm revolving around the stars, the light spots scattered between the gaps are a feast of blades and blood flowers , He only remembered endless fighting, fighting, fighting, until the blood condensed on his cheeks dried up into a hard shell, and swinging a knife became a mechanical instinct, but no matter when he looked up, the sky was always dark and cloudy.

No hope, no way out—

Endless grief and pain filled his soul, and he knew that this was the end of everything. Fu Sangshen's life would not be very long, and it should be a joy to die with his master.

They will grow old with their master, waiting for the young and tough woman to have long snow-white hair—or she has cut it short at that time, until she has lovely wrinkles on her face, and can't see clearly what is in front of her, When they needed their help to walk, and could no longer lift a knife, they would happily throw a feast, and one by one, enter the chamber where she slept, and break themselves beside her.

But it shouldn't be like this.

When she was still young and beautiful, with too many dreams and goals in mind, she was besieged and killed here by a tide of enemies.

There are fewer and fewer companions around him, and the temporary defense line is collapsing layer by layer. Half an hour ago, the sound of the battle ahead has been lost, and the one who filled the gap with a knife became a seriously injured colleague.

Maybe they still have an hour...

Hidekiri thought aimlessly, when facing the foreseeable death, his heart was terribly calm.

He even had room to think about his short life in this Honmaru.

He treasured those flashing beautiful memories in the depths, but it didn't take much effort to dig them out, as if they were there, waiting for him to find them with just a stretch of his hand.

"Hichiri, do you want to come out to look at the flowers?" The pretty face in my memory is always smiling, and the woman who already has a child still maintains that kind of girlish innocence and gentleness. She leans on the door frame and puts her finger on the door Knocking twice symbolically, eyes shining with beautiful light spots met his eyes, and bent playfully and happily.

He found that there was a beautiful light red at the end of her eyes, like a small scar, usually hidden by her hair, but when her long hair was pulled up, she could see this light red, falling on her eyelids Like the petals of a rose in full bloom.

"Ah, since it's an invitation from the Patriarch, of course I have to go to the appointment." Hearing his own answer, Hu Qie still had the usual frivolous and sweet voice, maybe only he could hear a little helplessness in his voice.

The woman in the small sleeves tilted her head and looked at him and smiled. Although the judges always praised the beauty of crescent moon, Higakiri felt that even ten crescent moons stacked together would not be as beautiful as this smile.

——Sure enough, there is something wrong with the aesthetics of those judges, right?

Mustache cut off one arm of the marching army, and kicked it away, the blue figure who had just thought of it appeared beside him at some point, repaired him and straightened his body to look over: "Hidekiri .”

The usual smile on the face of the beauty director of the Sanjo family is gone, the dark blue hair is messily pasted on the face, and the golden Inari fringe has disappeared, and Hidekiri reflexively compares it with the smile in his memory Once again, it is affirmed that there is a little problem with the aesthetics of the judges.

"Huh? What are you doing here?" Hidekiri asked lazily, his voice was low, and he kept squeezing the strength of swinging the knife from his bones. Talking was really a waste of energy.

San Riyue answered irrelevantly: "It's been a day and a night, the Lord just fainted from exhaustion, Yao Yan is taking care of her... We have to find a way, at least let her go out."

Higakiri stepped on the corpse of a marching army and leaped high, swung his knife to chop off a kunai, and then stabbed his own scarlet blade into the chest cavity of a big sword.

"You said."

Peeling off the soft and sweet shell, the Taidao that has gone through thousands of years reveals the indifference in its bones.

Sanriyue seemed to be silent for a while, and then gave a neat answer: "Dark fall."

"Dark fall" is a forbidden word in current affairs. All Honmaru related to this word are listed on the list that needs to be focused on and destroyed directly when necessary. Higakiri didn't react at all when he heard Sankaiyue say this, he was quite calm and natural understood what he meant.

The combat power of the dark fallen Fusangshen is not on the same level as the ordinary Fusangshen. When they do not have the upper hand in numbers, they can only improve the combat power of a single player.

This idea is also correct.

Hidekiri turned his face slightly, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the other party's big sleeves unfolded like a bird: "How do you do it?"

He accepted the offer without even asking a single extra word.

San Riyue's hand wielding the knife froze for a moment.

He wanted to say that after becoming the Dark Fallen Fusangshen, he would definitely not be able to escape the fate of being destroyed. In any case, current affairs cannot allow a dangerous Dark Fallen Fusangshen to exist under their jurisdiction, and after the Dark Fall, there will be various various questions...

But he didn't say these words in the end, he was very clear about Hidekiri's character, and he didn't need these superfluous words that were only used for exhortation to shake his mind.

"kill me."

So San Riyue thought for a while, and realized that she was the only one who could say this, so she couldn't help but smile.

Mustache didn't look at him, and was raising his knife to stab into the body of a tall retrograde soldier. He used such force that he didn't even get into the muddy and smelly flesh with his wrist.

He slowly pulled out his knife, and the blade pulled out from the muscle with a sticky and disgusting sound.

Higakiri didn't say anything more, neither did Mikazuki.

They killed the enemy side by side in silence, and then in a short rest moment, the elegant and slender sword turned around and pierced the blue figure.

Warm blood splattered on his face, his mustache lowered his eyes, and surging spiritual power poured into his withered body again. This spiritual power was violent and ferocious, and it wanted to tear his body apart regardless of whether it was the enemy or not. Noisy trying to find a way to vent.

He didn't look at Sanriyue's expression, what occupied all his thoughts was a delicate and beautiful rose petal that existed in his memory.

A gray-black air flow surged out of the body, and the hand holding the knife slowly turned into sharp bone claws. It was such a beautiful rose, but unfortunately he could never pick it up again.

He couldn't remember clearly what happened after the dark fall, killing occupied all his mind, he still swung his knife mechanically, clearing the bleeding red space in the enemy army pressed down like a cloud, at first he seemed to be trying to save Those colleagues who were surrounded, but he soon discovered that it was a waste of time.

The Fusangshen who have reached the end of the road are constantly declining in combat effectiveness. They are just gritting their teeth and struggling to support themselves, and it is difficult to even protect themselves.

So mustache switched methods.

He handed out his own blade before all the enemies, neatly harvested familiar lives, and used these lives to refill his power reserves, but it was strange, seeing him, no one resisted, but It is the death that he brings with relief.

Outside the castle tower is a mountain of corpses, the first floor has been filled to the brim with dead marching troops, the second floor has become the main battlefield for the Fusangshen. On the road, set off a bloody rain after another.

Fu Sangshen's position was still shrinking, and I don't know how long it took, but the only one standing with him was Yizhenyao Kentoshiro.

The dagger with purple pupils has a rational thinking not inferior to that of an adult. After briefly judging the situation, he put down his own sword against Mustache.

"Although I am very unwilling, but there is no other way, Higakiri, I hope you can take the general out."

The end of the words disappeared into Higiri's arms, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clang, combined with the sound of the curtain door opening.

Mustache raised his head, and met the eyes of the inquisitor behind the door who had just woken up from a coma.

The hoarse screams and questioning in the novel are superfluous when life and death are really at stake. Mustache just glanced at her, then turned around to stop another wave of marching troops coming up.

She didn't speak, and neither did he.

This dormitory, which is no more than ten stacks, became their last position.

They stayed there for a total of three days and four nights, during which there was not a word of conversation, not even a brief face-to-face. When the fourth dawn came, Higakiri involuntarily stopped the knife that stabbed the retrograde army's chest for an instant.

The Honmaru, which lost its owner, is slowly collapsing. The retrograde army that has completed the task suddenly retreats like a tide. The last god stepped on the pile of corpses as high as the castle tower with a knife. His appearance is more terrifying than the most terrifying retrograde army. It was terrifying, half of his body lost his flesh and blood, and the turbid spiritual power absorbed from the corpse helped him repair the missing internal organs, blood was still dripping from the corner of his clothes, but he just looked up at the sky in silence.

The newly sprouted Dawn is rosy, as pretty as the scars at the ends of her eyes.

This was his last thought.

An unstable space-time vortex appeared above the collapsed Honmaru, and Hidekiri was involved, and he opened his eyes again and was on the battlefield again.

The battle and wandering without knowing the time made him gradually forget some things. One day, he encountered a group of retrograde troops again. Before his blade was unsheathed, he was brought into a gap in time and space by them.

It was the moment when the sun was setting, and he saw a black-haired boy walking forward in the afterglow, his eyes were beautiful and familiar shapes.

These eyes made Higiri calm down rarely, he stared at those eyes for a while, and then remembered something he had forgotten.

It's her child, it's already this big.

That kind of gloomy cloud appeared in the sky again, and the stench that belonged to the retrograde army poured out overwhelmingly. Mustache thought for a while holding the knife, and pointed the blade at the still ignorant boy.

"Go to sleep." He hadn't spoken for a long time, his voice was hoarse and ugly, but the hand that swung the knife was calm and steady.

Catching the young man's limp body, the dark clouds in the sky began to dissipate. Mustache stared at this face, staying in his eyes for a long time.

****

Izumi Jinguji struggled out of the chaotic vortex of memory. It seemed that because of thinking of these things, Higakiri’s mood became very unstable, and there were even signs of spiritual collapse. The unsheathed knife touched the ground, making a long and sad sound. buzzing.

"...It's really bad..." Hidekiri muttered, his eyes stopped on the dim knife, half of his thin face was covered by his frosty white hair, he didn't know if he was talking about this memory or the reflection on the knife of myself.

"This is the gap between two time-spaces. It should be space debris that fell from somewhere. Sometimes it will be connected with a space with a similar frequency. I don't know where it is now." After regaining his senses, Hakiri said. It was still the same low tone, soft as if afraid of waking up the dreamer.

Jingujiquan bit his lips tightly, he didn't dare to speak, for fear that his emotions would be revealed if he opened his mouth.

Jingujiquan suddenly remembered the dark blue figure he saw before he fell, and the little spiritual power that dissipated after being touched by him had a temperature that made him feel intimate.

...Could it be that during the long wandering, this dark and gloomy fragment coincided with a certain part of the former Honmaru where all the past of Hidekiri was buried?

The fallen god sits here, unaware that above are his bloody memories.

Jingujiquan didn't speak.

Hidekiri leaned on the knife, and didn't care what Jingujiquan was thinking: "Is there an Akatsuki Fusangshin in your Honmaru?"

As the same as the Dark Fallen Fusangshen, he could sense the faint Dark Fallen aura lingering on the young master - he was also a very possessive guy.

Jingujiquan paused for a while: "Oh, it's...Higakiri."

It feels a bit strange to talk about another him in front of this Fu Sangshen.

Mustache thought for a while, and the corners of his mouth turned up, but he didn't look happy: "Then let him come and take you out, you can't get through the turbulent flow outside by yourself."

He threw his own sword into Jingujiquan's arms indifferently, and the dull and cracked Taidao looked as if it would split in a second.

"It should be much easier to use it as a summoning."

Jingu Jiquan subconsciously caught the knife, and saw Higakiri set his sights on the turquoise light again: "But you..."

Hidekiri raised his eyelids and looked at him lazily: "I've lived long enough."

He looked at the gentle light: "Why does the sword that turns into a human body have human emotions..."

That's too painful isn't it.

If you don't have feelings, you won't feel despair about it.

Hidekiri watched the mass of turquoise-golden light continue to expand, the power of time and space anchored the body knife, pulling the other self, the severe pain was like thunder and lightning smashing into the brain, but this pain was far from enough to make him moved.

In the dim light, he and his other self met their gazes, their eyes reflected each other's thoughts like mirrors, Mustache lifted one corner of his mouth, and opened his mouth soundlessly.

The long torment has finally come to an end, and the dissipated consciousness will no longer remember the untouched rose.

But he was finally able to return to the death he deserved.

Jingujiquan opened his eyes and looked at Fu Sangshen who was leaning against the wall with a pleasant and relaxed smile. The dark red pupils and pale skin shattered like glass and disappeared in an instant.

A hand wrapped around Jingujiquan's shoulder from behind, and pulled the silent interrogator into his arms.

"Patriarch?" A few strands of frosty and silver-white hair fell to the front, and the voice of the mustache was elongated sweetly, and another whisper of the mustache that remained in the sea of ​​consciousness echoed endlessly.

—You want to make him fall in love with you.

—Then don't hesitate any longer.

—tearing his ribcage with his claws.

—and plunge your blade into his heart.

——Even if he screams and screams.