Snow has fallen on Bujian Mountain for three days.
Mo Ci stood on the edge of the cliff, looking at the gray skyline. He was wearing a blue gown that had been washed white. The cuffs were frayed, but his back was straight.
He is one of the lowest-ranking disciples of Momen. He should not speak in the council chamber. But he still said - "How many people are there in Xiahe Village?"
Four hundred and thirty-two people. Standing in front of a team of 30,000 people 300 miles away.
Ju Ziyan said: "Everyone will die."
When she said these two words, the toes of the mechanical prosthesis curled up slightly.
Sixteen years ago, the former giant "Qing" made a decision that everyone thought was crazy-opening the door to admit refugees. Then the "Night of Falling from the Sky" came, "Qing" died in battle, and Momen closed the mountain.
Sixteen years later, the same choice is before everyone. Open or close the mountain? Save others or protect yourself?
The door is not a matter of whether you open it or not. It's the people outside the door who will come, whether you open it or not. The only thing you can choose is which side you are on when you come.
