It was early spring, and it was windy and rainy.
A three-masted ship sailed through the wind and waves, and the wind caused the sails to swell.
After lunch, song tingfeng stepped onto the deck with one hand on his saber. He looked in the direction of the capital while facing the wind.
Over the past month, the flames of war had sharpened the edges of his face, and blood had washed over his eyes. His entire person had changed greatly.
Footsteps came from behind. Song tingfeng didn't turn around. He pointed to the North and said, ""We'll reach the capital in another ten days."
Zhu guangxiao replied with an " mm " and looked north side by side with song tingfeng. He was still a man of few words. Other than his temperament becoming more stable and honest, there was not much change.
On the other hand, the slimy-sounding song tingfeng seemed to have been reborn.
