The General Who Suppressed the Army and Promoted the Great Desolate Times

In the morning in Xuanhuangyuan, the fog was like milk that God accidentally spilled. It was so thick that it couldn't be dispersed. The visibility was low, just like a blind man groping for an elephant, unable to see anything clearly. Lin Zhao was bent over. The bundle of firewood on his back was so heavy that it almost broke his spine. He held the hatchet tightly in his hand, so tightly that his palms began to sweat.