The wind howling from the north smells of rust.
Once a dynasty is overturned, what is overturned is the incompetent court, and what is uncovered are the heroic spirits buried deep in the ground.
Their blood soaked the earth, so the hearts and souls of themselves and the survivors of the previous dynasty lingered here.
I stood on that bloody land, trying to avenge my shame and gain the final victory by stepping on the enemy's flesh and blood.
I also want blood to stain the earth and carve a new layer of hatred into it.
But he blocked my way.
In the past year, a fierce and stupid scheming attack x a ruthless and ruthless underhanded Shou (?)
Intention: The conflict between seeking a sword and pursuing change