"You are going well now...but, but you will definitely encounter problems in the future...Don't give up..."

"Our generation is old, and the next path depends on you young people."

"We... have been working hard for decades and want to open a road... When we were about to die, we realized that the road had not been opened, but just moved a few stones..."

"However, if you move a few stones away, it will be much easier for you to pave the road..."

"Xiao Ye, I can see that it's not easy for you. Your hair is whiter and your eyes are darker than mine... Is it hard lately?"

"If you persist, don't blame me. I'm afraid there are only so many things I can do for you..."

Ye Zhou's eyes heated up, and after a few seconds of silence, he replied in a slightly hoarse voice:

"You guys, you have done enough."

The old man didn't say anything more.

After arriving at the study, he stood up tremblingly in front of the desk, lifted up the brush that had been prepared long ago, stretched out his hand and dipped it in ink with difficulty, and then gently put it on the paper.

His arm muscles had atrophy and his strength was so weak that even the pen was a bit difficult, but he was still slowly and firmly writing on paper that it was probably his last work in his life.

The curved handwriting extends on the paper, and the strokes are neither coherent nor smooth, and there is no sign of the pen.

However, in such a calligraphy that is worse than that of elementary school students, Ye Zhou clearly saw the sharpness of the golden swords and iron horses, and the strength of the paper back.

Tian Ye wrote a poem.

A poem about Qilian.

The Han envoy re-issues the reign of Shuo, and Hu ministers asked for an alliance.

The war is filled with smoke and the weather is empty, and the war is overwhelming.

The tiger falls into the clouds and the sky locks, and the dragon piles into the moon and the moon will be bright.
Chapter completed!