Not a single light leaked through the large room, and General Burnham sat in the darkness, at the end of the long table, holding his head and not speaking.

He seemed to be contemplating, and it was as if he was looking at the thick darkness around him.

He looked at the darkness for a long time.

For a long, long time.

There was a rustling sound from the boundless darkness, the sound was thin and fast but faintly sharp, the sharp but different from the sharpness of the sword, it was more like the frost that crept up the treetops on the early spring night, full of an unstoppable and inexplicable rule that should have been so.

Then there were the footsteps, neither light nor heavy, neither muffled by the fine sounds, nor so loud as to make the whole empty room vibrate, it rang out regularly, falling on the obsidian floor one step at a time, with one long and short echo, with the rustling in the shadows, like a dance in the dark.

An inexplicable chill crept up the long table of the dance, spreading from one end to the other, staining the pitch-black armor of General Burnham's body with a thin layer of frost.

General Burnham remained motionless, he looked into the darkness and continued to say nothing, as if in amusement.

The accompaniment in the dark night grew louder, and the rustling sounds had morphed into a faint cacophony, and they began to resound throughout the large, dark room, as if the dance music had reached its climax.

The cold was getting deeper and deeper, and the entire long table was already crawling with frost flowers, and General Burnham's jet-black armor had even formed fine ice flowers, which were constantly condensing on the armor like snakes, making a piercing snapping sound.

General Burnham still didn't move, he didn't seem to care at all about the cold that was about to freeze him into an ice sculpture, he even smiled, he smiled slightly.

The laughter was soft, but it echoed throughout the empty room, drowning out the footsteps and rustling.

The rustling stopped abruptly, and the footsteps disappeared, like a sudden stop.

But the voice only stopped for a moment, and after two breaths, General Burnham's laughter was completely drowned out, and then it was played again in a voice that was many times stronger than before.

This time, it was no longer squirming, it was as high-pitched as ten thousand hellish spirits gnawing at the hard skulls, and they roared through the room like a tidal wave, and the footsteps in the roar were as loud as the bitterest wind in Freljord's deepest night.

The cold wind howled, and the ice poured out of the darkness like a tidal wave, swallowing the entire long table, and finally freezing General Burnham with the raging dance music.

The cold wind stopped, and the footsteps stopped.

The whole large, empty room lost all sound at once, and the song was gone, but even a trace of the sound was swallowed up by the cold.

The entire room was completely frozen, and even the darkness was frozen, as if suddenly entering the legendary age of ice and snow where everything was dead and silent.

After a long time, a hand rested on the chair at the other end of the long table.

It was an arm that shone even in the darkness, wisps of pale blue cold light roaming the surface of its skin, as if it was no longer blood flowing in this arm, but ice and snow.

Bingxue's arm pulled open the seat, which had been completely frozen, and let out a piercing sound of ice cracking, breaking the long-standing silence.

A woman sat in that chair.

It was a woman who shone like her arms, with ice and snow flowing in every inch of her veins, and she sat upright, holding a delicate little girl asleep in her hands, with a smile on her face, neither flattering nor enchanting, like the peerless painting "Madonna" that had once sold for a sky-high price in the auction house of the War College.

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"Poof—"

The tide of Noxian soldiers finally rushed to the exit of the cramped hell's passage, and slammed into the first group of coalition soldiers who had rushed to block the mouth of the canyon, and the sound of swords stabbing each other into their flesh was loud at that moment, overshadowing the endless shouts of killing, echoing throughout the canyon.

Blood burst out at once, splashing all over the faces of the men who were hedged, and they roared loudly, gritting their teeth against the swords in their bodies in pain and death, and with the help of their comrades behind them, they slammed into it again with the help of their comrades behind them.

"Poof-" The sword completely submerged into their bodies, and the two sides collided fiercely again, but due to the lack of preparation on the side of the coalition army, they hastily let the menacing Noxians take advantage of a little, and they rushed out of a crack, and dozens of Noxians immediately rushed out.

However, the reaction of the coalition side was not slow, almost the moment the crack was created, more people rushed up from behind, and even more Demacian soldiers held large shields to block the front line, and the dozens of Noxians who rushed out were quickly killed by the group.

Galen glanced at the front line and breathed a sigh of relief, this first wave of impact was the most difficult to stop, because the other party continued to rush out of the inside, and it was such a cramped environment, that momentum was incomparable to the own troops who had nowhere to borrow their strength, but fortunately, that canyon was too cramped, even if it broke out of the gap, it was impossible to output many people for a while.

After the first wave, the tug-of-war after that is much easier.

With this in mind, his gaze returned to the hand that had broken through the snow a moment earlier.

At this moment, the second hand had reached out of the snow.

A dozen Demacian soldiers surrounded the man without waiting for Galen's command, and silently drew his broadsword from his waist.

Judging from these hands, the thick joints and palms should be a man, and the calluses on the palms can be seen to be a warrior, so it can only be Tedamir or ...... Olaf.

It's just that Tedamir and Olaf are both characters known for their bravery, and for a while it was impossible to tell which one it was.

If it's Olaf......

Galen glanced at the dozen or so Demacian soldiers, although he seemed to have a draw with Olaf, but Galen knew that he had lost, and his injuries must be lighter than his own, so this person ......

......Before Galen could finish thinking about it, a head had already rushed out of the snow behind him.

Tydamir shook the snowflakes on his face, looked at the long sword in the sky and cried and laughed: "Are you going to kill Lao Tzu?" ”

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I didn't want to talk, but I've been a little hesitant lately.

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