Shuo Fenglie

A young man from Longxi, a golden crossbow condensed with frost. The lonely cypress is ashes and the iron clothes are cold, the dragon city is broken and the stars are hanging. Wei Huo's banner rolls over the Yinshan Mountains, and Li Xiao's pommel horse splits the wilderness. Clusters of arrows pierce the clouds, suddenly appearing as blood curtains in Hexi; wolf smoke eclipses the moon, and the setting sun shines in the desert north. The white wolf weeps in the sacrificial fire, and the bronze talisman is hidden in the battlefield. Atiya dances to offer sacrifices to the sky, and is pure in euphemistic medicine to moisten the dry intestines. Even if the sound of the ring-headed sword shocked the vast sea, it would be difficult to carve it into an article written on Qilian's bones. In the past, all the beacons and beacons were turned into dust, and only the solitary sky was visible in the vast expanse.