A cold wind howled, accompanied by the sound of bones shattering. It painted a scene of carnage amidst the swirling snow. A young man, wielding a sharp blade and possessing an alluring visage, stared down at the enemy sprawled on the ground. His eyes, as cold as autumn water, held no trace of emotion.,Ye Qingtang stood straight, her bare feet on the soft snow. Her soaked feet melted into the snow, and she tilted her head. Suddenly, she raised her sword, its jeweled tip pointed directly at the man in fine clothes surrounded by a crowd of people.,Ye You, who was named by Ye Qingtang, frowned slightly, her eyes full of disdain. In her eyes, Ye Qingtang was nothing more than a struggling ant on the verge of death, not even worthy of her mercy.。