The vast dome of heaven and earth.
Wind and snow, urgent and fierce.
Like autumn's end when fluttering catkins fill the sky.
Chen Yang ignored the corpses on the ground, walked to the main gate, hands clasped behind his back, quietly gazing at the scenery outside.
This year's snow fell again and again.
Not only did it never stop, it grew ever more violent.
Luo Cong was still standing before the main gate. The blizzard-laden gale had already buried half his body, and an extreme chill invaded through every pore, flooding his limbs and bones.
For the scene before him, Luo Cong had never imagined it could be like this.
The people of the Nine Sects actually killed as they pleased, without room for any discussion.
At first he was very unconvinced, just as stubborn and dim-witted as Qiu Wanqing. They were all young, and seeing Chen Yang possess such a terrifying aura, he felt more or less uncomfortable inside.
Until now.
