The cold blade condenses the light of the night, and thousands of mountains stand at the top of the vast sky.
The wind cuts the iron bones into lonely cliffs, and the blood-soaked ice edges erode the old wounds.
When the beacon smoke is broken, there are no tears; when the shackles are broken, there is frost.
All the warmth and corruption in the human world are annihilated, and only the sword shines against the great wilderness.
——Xiao Yan
@ Lawrence