Ice and snow, white silence.

Juxin stood on the mountainside.

This is not the first time he has seen the vast snowy sky, but every time he looks at it, he still feels that the world is so vast, but the color is too simple, and he is waiting for himself to use the knife in his hand to paint countless bright red lines between the snow.

It's almost the New Year.

The Yan army was outside, and there were also homesick thoughts, and the army was gradually a little unstable.

In recent days, the patrol posts are still the same as before

"Through the Warring States, Face the White Rise at the Beginning" 173.

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