"The world of Snow Country is simpler than ours. There is only one queen. When she raises her children, I believe they will play one game first and decide the winner. If the winner still wants to go south then, I will fight with that one."

"You don't dare to go in now, can you beat her in the future?"

Everything makes sense, but it's still uncomfortable. Even if it's the Saint of the Sword, she still wants to mock the other party.

The voice of the Knife Saint was very calm and even seemed a little stupid.

"You can't beat it, you can't beat it in your life... but you still have to fight."

...

...

Zhao Layue had nothing to say.

The voice of the Knife Saint did not sound again.

She walked back to the temple gate, sat on the threshold, looked at the snow field in the north, and said softly: "Can you just wait like this?"

She asked the same question before, that time she was talking about the Queen of Snow Country, and this time she was talking about Jing Jiu.

"The fog is too cold and no one can live, so there is no need to wait at all, but everyone always has to be worried and want to do something."

Zhuodong said, "Look at it. In a few days, everyone will leave and the bustle of Baicheng will calm down."

Zhao Layue said: "But Jing Jiu is not dead yet."

Jogwoo said, "He is either dead or is dying, but he is dead."

Zhao Layue said: "No, if you all die, he will not die either."

After saying this, the temple became very quiet.

Two girls sat on the threshold.

The Golden Buddha looked at them.

...

...

Cold fog locks in the snow field.

The boats of various sects flew away one after another.

Zhao lvyue asked Gu Qing and the young man surnamed Yuan to leave with Qingshan Jianzhou, and stayed by himself.

Baicheng is getting colder and colder.

As soon as autumn arrived, several heavy snow fell. The wells in the city were frozen and the kangs were hard to heat up. Even the most devout believers were forced to leave.

I left for winter too.

Zhao leyue was still sitting on the threshold.

After winter, it is spring and it is still cold.

Until midsummer came, the fog on the snowfield did not decrease, and there was finally more warmth in Baicheng.

The water of the well gradually melted, and the pear blossoms bloomed all over the city, but Jing Jiu still didn't come back.

Zhao stood up and his black braids fell, much longer than last year.

She pulled up her black braid, cut it gently, threw it on the ground, and left.

The wind blows, the short hair is messy.

...

...
Chapter completed!