Benliang City, Scarlett had already armed himself to the teeth and stood on top of the city wall, looking into the distance, waiting for the enemy's arrival.
Snowflakes drifted down one after another, attempting to cover the traces left by past battles, but the deep craters left by cannons and the cracks from the Snowman Clan's use of Skill, as if resisting, made their presence known.
Before the start of this war, this land had been vast fields that fed countless Beastmen.
Now, it was riddled with countless wounds.
The Beastmen who had tilled these fields had long since fled to avoid the strife, turning into waves of displaced refugees.
Spring was coming soon.
This year, they probably won't have anyone to cultivate them, and only a few trivial sprouts will try to awaken the memory in others that "this place was once fertile."
But then, how many people will pay attention to those sprouts?
