Nanshan Jianqi

A game of chatting, a game of ten thousand years of chess, the young man chosen by fate walked out of Nanshan Mountain in the heavy snow, carrying the rusty iron sword on his back. This year, the chess game that had been undercurrent for tens of thousands of years finally began to take shape. The unstoppable destiny whispered to the young man, "You have no choice but to surrender!" The young man drew his sword and cut flowers, stones, walls, buildings, mountains, seas, heaven and earth, and fate!