He was once the sharpest sword in the empire. He single-handedly guarded the northern border for ten years, making other countries afraid to look south.
The master's great power shocks the Lord, and the birds are gone and their bows are hidden. A glass of poisonous wine, 30,000 soldiers buried their bones on a snowy night.
He died in the hands of the king he trusted most, but was reborn in the body of a down-and-out young man sixteen years later.
In this life, he doesn't fight for anyone.
In the northern ice field, he founded the "Dark Wolf Palace" and established an iron law - "stop aggression with blood."
Those who violate our territory will be punished with blood.
Those who bully our compatriots will pay with blood.
In troubled times, he used the cruelest means to guard the coldest peace.
When the iron hooves of the nations once again trampled through the mountains and rivers, that forgotten name returned from the darkness.
"When the dark wolf travels, it will see blood."
"But have you asked those who survived - are they afraid of the dark wolf, or the war that will ensue after the dark wolf leaves?"
