Murong Bo, with greying temples, appeared aged, but his face, sharply chiseled like a knife's edge and eyebrows as if painted with ink, projected an imposing presence, still resembling a graceful middle-aged man, handsome as ever.
Ding Chunqiu had long, flowing hair, with rosy lips and white teeth, holding a feathered fan in hand.
Their temperaments and appearances were distinct from each other.
However, without exception, their contours were deep, with defined features, faintly revealing the unparalleled grace of their youth.
At this moment, the two donned armor and rode their horses to the outskirts of the city.
A glance revealed it all.
Indeed, the Western Xia army galloped towards them like a surging tide, with an overwhelming and majestic aura.
The two exchanged a glance, able to see the unwavering battle spirit in each other's eyes.
