Bian Junxue

In the last years of Dajing, the frontier troops collapsed like a tide. When Shen Yan opened his eyes, he saw a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood; behind him were forty-seven remnant soldiers who were starving to death, in front were thirty Beirong cavalry, and behind him were the friendly troops who had withdrawn. There is no system, no magical weapons, just a modern code of conduct. The first thing he had to do was not to escape, but to let these one hundred people who should have died in battle live to see the sun tomorrow. This year, the snow in Dajing came earlier than in previous years.