Wolves are rising everywhere, the country is looking north, the dragon is rolling, the horse is neighing, the sword energy is as frost. The heart is like the vast water of the Yellow River. Twenty years have passed, I ask who can resist each other. I hate the sword and desire to be crazy, how many loyal souls are buried in the bones of other people. Why cherish the death of death to repay the family and country? I endure the sighing, and there is no speechless blood and tears. The strong wind blows, the clouds droop, when will the Legend of the Condor Heroes return? The horse's hooves go south, people look north, people look north, grass green and yellow, but only see the wind and dust flying, but there is a green edge in my hand, and the wind and clouds change, the head is dry, the years are bright, and the foot stepping on Kunkan, floating and sinking. Who is the vast, the wind and clouds are scary, look up, and the enchanting rivers and mountains. The story is pure fiction, don't take it true