Your Majesty, come back

Lord Rabbit, these three words alone are enough to kill the person in front of you ten times.

The martial artist covered his head in horror, looked around, and then yelled to the side as if he had found a life-saving straw: "My lord! My lord Yue! Save the little one——"

A flash of vigilance flashed, and Chu Xiao looked in that direction, only to see a person half hidden in the bushes, revealing a small part of the hem of the black robe, and he didn't know how long he looked there.

"Yue Wangye—" The martial artist crawled over and pulled the young man's robe to ask for help.

Holding a bow and arrow, Chu Xiao nodded towards that side. Anyway, he is dumb now, so he doesn't need to say any polite words.

Seeing that the young man seemed to have been put under a fixed spell, Chu Xiao had no choice but to throw down his bow, pat the dust off his body, and walked towards the young man.

Unexpectedly, without waiting for him to approach, Chu Yue turned around and left, his pace was frighteningly fast. This kind of pace would be considered a deserter in previous wars.

Seeing that everyone was gone, Chu Xiao sat cross-legged on the ground, and tried the bow very carefully. Although it was the first time he used it, he was surprisingly good at it. Even the style was the same as the one hanging in his bedroom. The old bow is exactly the same.

A man should lie drunk on the battlefield, kill the enemy and make meritorious deeds. To be honest, if there is no battle, he is really bored. No one dares to fight with him, even those generals who have fought against him , It seems that the temper has been smoothed out by the easy life.

It's like a pet trapped in the palace.

Bored, he casually picked up a small branch from the ground, pondered for a while, and wrote carefully.

Drunk with a light on to watch the sword, dreaming back to the company of blowing horns...

The hand holding the branch can't be controlled and writes more and more forcefully, as if wanting to vent out the pent-up resentment that has been suppressed for many days.

Eight hundred miles under the command of the sun, the sound of fifty strings turning over the fortress, autumn soldiers on the battlefield!

Lu Feikuai on the horse, bow like a thunderbolt string——

There was a crisp cracking sound, and the word of shock was not completed. The branch finally broke into pieces because it couldn't bear it.

Chu Xiao was silently stunned, and slowly stroked his temples.

"It happened in vain..."

Look around again, the high walls of the small courtyard are like a cage, where is still his battlefield.

A joke, it was a joke at all, he stood up in a trance, condescending, and slowly rubbed off the words just written on the ground with his feet, until there was no trace left.