There was no blood, no war, no rising sand and endless killing on that road.
There are only the lingering mist and rain of the south of the Yangtze River, wooden huts surrounded by green bamboos, gurgling streams, and books filled with the fragrance of ink.
Even if they both knew each other, this was absolutely impossible.
Gongsun Ce seemed not to hear anything, but looked at the battlefield that was stained with blood.
Looking at Da Song who had disappeared into the wind and snow, he suddenly raised the corners of his lips.
Then he turned around and jumped off the city wall.
Conception: