The grasslands in March are still cold and desolate.
Although the heavy snow had melted, the vitality of spring had yet to emerge, and the vast expanse of the prairie showed no hint of green. It was still a scene of withering yellow, coupled with rivulets of melted snow.
Corpses lay haphazardly amidst the grass, the aftermath of the smoke of war burning down to embers, shattered weapons erected on the ground, marking the end of a recent battle.
The military banners emblazoned with the character "Wei" fluttered in the breeze. Soldiers, just disengaged from combat, still had excitement etched on their faces, and then, under the direction of a military officer, began to tidy up the battlefield.
"These barbarians are getting fewer and fewer,"
