Coincidentally.

When Blood Hand Bu Chen was unwilling to turn around and fight with Yang Lin to the death.

Yang Lin was also in a dilemma.

He also saw the bloody killing in front of the central hall.

Anger rose in my heart, but I was still walking on thin ice.

Never impulsive.

In the illusion, after seeing the more tragic and inhumane killings of the Japanese pirates, no matter how angry Yang Lin was, no matter how he saw things he didn't want to see, he would not mess up his mood.

At this time, he rushed to the entrance of the central hall, perhaps he could save some people, but the Qing gang attacked everyone and lost their suppression and could immediately push them all over.

At that time, I may not be able to fight Bu Chen even if I fight head-on, and everyone in the house cannot rush out. If I rush out, I will die. I will immediately be a huge crisis.

Fighting is always a very serious matter.

No matter at any time, any sudden accident, you must start from the overall situation, grasp the root and attack the enemy.

This point has been deeply engraved into Yang Lin's bones.

Therefore, he forced his heart to become colder and harder, no longer looked at the bloody hand Bu Chen, nor did he watch the cruel killing scene.

He believed in Uncle Da and Wang Yiqiao.

They can hold on.

As long as you move quickly enough, nothing is a problem.

Yang Lin gritted his teeth secretly, and his body turned into a ghost. A patterned Tang sword was still sharp, and the blade body was as blood as a stream.

When dancing, it has a slight bloody red light, adding a bit of murderous aura.

He swept past and killed the gunman in the northeast, and did not stop and rushed directly to the southeast.

If you look at his route from mid-air, you can see...

In fact, from the beginning, his footsteps were a large diamond pattern.

It just surrounded the land of Yang's atrium.

The current situation is not like the Qing Gang surrounding the Yang family, but rather like a single person surrounding many people.

When Yang Lin rushed from the northeast to the southeast, gunfire sounds from all sides were silenced at the same time.

No one dared to fire a gun at will.

They found that this huge yard was like a ghost cave...

Whoever makes a sound will die.

No matter how these Qing Gang thugs are, they are usually brave and reckless, and they have to believe in evil at this time.

Not only did they not move forward, but they retreated a little.

Because, they didn't know where that vicious sword hand would appear and who would wave the sword at?

This feeling is like seeing death coming, but it is impossible to escape.

It can make any normal person collapse.

The Qing Gang killer is also a human being.

So, they had to retreat.

No way to retreat.

...

Inside the main hall.

Yang Shoucheng and Liang Yingzhen both had their eyes red.

Watching Uncle Da rush out desperately.

They wanted to stop them, but they opened their mouths, but couldn't say a word.

These people in the mansion have been with their family for many years.

He died so worthlessly, and he died miserably.

Looking at this scene, they felt so uncomfortable that they wanted to cry.

But I can't do anything.

Uncle Da couldn't see it and rushed out with a deep will.

This is not an impulse.

Instead, you will try your best after weighing the pros and cons.

In fact, everyone understands it.

If the blood-handed butcher was allowed to kill him casually, not only would everyone outside completely collapse, but the only people left in the hall would have no fighting spirit.

When the enemy sways in, these people don’t know if they still have the courage to resist?

Compared with the ugly expressions of Yang Shoucheng and his wife.

Wang Xiaoqiao stood in the hall, his eyes filled with ice and snow, and his white shirt was fierce...

He watched Wu Zhongda rush up, watched him punch each step, and his arms roared and attacked fiercely...

Then he looked at the burly middle-aged man's arm and bones broke inch by inch and he stood still without retreating.

The large piece of blood spurted out of his mouth spurted red, making his beard wet his chest.

Wang Xiaoqiao still didn't move.

He was waiting for an opportunity that he didn't know if it would appear.

"Did you hear it?"

The killer king's hands were naturally drooping, holding both guns in his hands, his face was as pale as a virgin, and his voice was still so quiet and stable.

"What did you hear?"

Liang Yingzhen is not trembling now, with tears hanging on her long eyelashes. Looking at the sad ending of Uncle Da’s knowledge that he could not do it, even this strong woman who claims to not let her beards on her usual occasions was unbearable at this time.

They are all people who accompany you every day.

"The gunshots stopped to the west, north, and south."

A hint of sneer appeared on the corner of Wang Xiaoqiao's mouth.

He listened and said, "It's not stopping yet, the gunshots in the east are far away... They are retreating, they are afraid."

"It's San'er."

Liang Yingzhen immediately reacted.

Suddenly I remembered something.

The two masters and apprentices of the plum blossom thief were destroyed at the same time as Wang Zhenwei, the inspector of the Police Department.

This matter was led by his own three boys Yang Lin.

Or it was made by yourself.

Since he has such skills.

How could it not come?

How could he watch the bloody hand Bu Chen brutally kill his family?

He was even more unlikely to hide in any corner, trembling and dare not take action.

The only explanation is that he has more important things to do, and once he succeeds, he will be able to turn the tide.

"Ambuds Wei and save Zhao...good military tactics."

Wang Xiaoqiao shook his head and sighed, "Although this is not too appropriate, but if you hit yours, I hit mine, you will grab the time.

Brother Yang Lin is really amazing to never let the enemy lead his nose.

As long as Uncle Da is strong enough to not die for the time being, we will win this battle."

Uncle Da's face turned bloody and his hair stood up like a steel needle, like a fierce lion, desperately moving forward step by step.

Even if there is a mountain ahead, even if his arms are folded, he still does not take a step back, and fully demonstrates the iron-line fist bridge hand that is like steel and would rather break than bend.

Twelve punches.

Fist is deadly.

Not only will it take someone else's life.

Take your own life, too.

When his twelfth punch, with his lifelong blood and a sense of unwillingness to admit defeat, his fists formed a cross and blasted out interlaced, and the sound of cracking sounds sounded at the same time.

As the blood flashed, a palm crossed the mountain, and a cinnabar mark like five petals of plum blossoms hit his fist heavily.
To be continued...