Tongguan was broken, Mawei was in chaos, and Chang'an was in trouble.
The wolf's fangs penetrate deeply, and the fighting is always brutal. Rivers of blood and tears become the only thing left in the world. In the war-torn times, joys and sorrows are also passers-by. Knowing each other today, life and death will be commonplace tomorrow. Many encounters that should have been shocking, partings that should have been unparalleled, have been reflected coldly by the light of swords and soldiers.
Tang Si was setting up a trap on a tree, and he used his claws to catch a monk who was surrounded by wolf fangs. The monk was able to escape, and he took the time to sit down and adjust his breathing. Tang Si's hand on the trap didn't stop. The only conversation was only four words.
"Tang Si."
"…Zen Seven."
The monk straightened his breath, picked up the Zen stick and rushed towards the place where the sword light was the strongest. The blood-stained monk's robes were flying. Tang Si watched silently, then got up and headed for the road that must be passed by the Wolf Fang army.
In this way, it is considered acquaintance.
Intention: