The Return of the Swordsman
About This Novel
There are no heroes in the world on the battlefield, and the cold iron armor is shattered by the wind and smoke. The hegemony has not been separated for thousands of years, and there are no old friends in the west who have forgotten the country. A solitary shadow stands in the middle of the desert, a pot of windy sand resting on a drunken sword. Swinging a sword and carving rain reminds me of my youth. The righteous path in the world is in vain.
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