In the season when winter snow flies, the Ji Kingdom Capital is illuminated only by firelight, with rare lamps.
This ancient royal city is now a ruin, with only the palace and two nearby districts relatively intact.
Li Zhi, with his short beard, walks through the muddy streets, his gaze heavy. Everywhere there are broken walls, shattered poles and vehicle shafts lie across the streets, with some doors burned to frames. Bodies lie next to stone steps, some crushed under broken mats, with hands and feet sticking out. The well is blocked, its rim stained dark, trailing across the ground.
In the distance, the city wall is half-broken, creating an opening pouring in cold winds, dispersing the smoke but not the thick smell of blood.
The entire city has been totally destroyed by the flames of war. Ever since Qingming invented the cannon, warfare has completely changed.
