In the sixth year of the Apocalypse, there was a heavy snowfall in Liaodong. At the top of Ningyuan City, the Hongyi cannon could not break Hou Jin's cavalry, nor could it wake up the sleeping dream in the court. The border army refused to accept Lu Chen at night and saved his life among the dead. He didn't know that his father's blood debt ten years ago was being dug out from under the snow.
Yuan Chonghuan, Huang Taiji, Wei Zhongxian - the wheels of history roll forward, crushing countless loyal bones. But under the wheel, there is a group of people who want to block it with their bodies: Yan Shisan's sword, Xie Lin's hatred, Su Hongxiu's sword, and Monk Wusheng's Buddhist beads. Some of them were once the sharpest knives in the Ming Dynasty, some have degenerated into ghosts, and some split themselves in half between loyalty and betrayal.
This is not a story about a hero saving a dynasty. Because the Dynasty cannot be saved.
This is the story of how a group of people died, how they lived, and how they poured their last bit of blood into the frozen soil in the last days.
A five-volume epic, written from the wind and snow in Liaodong to the bloody night in the capital, from the broken mountains and rivers to the remaining candles of the Southern Ming Dynasty. There are more than three million words, more than two hundred characters, real historical events are the bones, and the chivalry of the rivers and lakes is the flesh. There is no system, no time travel, no cultivation - there are only swords, only snow, and only lonely ministers who know that they cannot do anything but do it.
The rivers and lakes are covered with rain and snow at night, and the setting sun and wind howls in the lonely city.
Don't ask about life and death to repay your homeland. A sword from across the sky shines on the bloody robe.
Open this book and you will hear the sound of someone drawing a sword on a snowy night four hundred years ago.
