凛冽的风卷着杆上的旗猎猎作响,战场上的血色蔓延至天空,大片大片猩红的云蒙在昏黄的苍穹之中,空气中泛着浓郁的血腥之气……垓下笼罩在一片死亡的气息之中。风在悲鸣,咆哮,嘶吼。在离战场不远的空旷之地上,驻扎着他的军队,不过寥寥数千人而已。他满脸倦容,目光凝在面前的长桌之上。桌上仅有一壶、一杯和一把泛着幽幽暗光的长剑。他摩挲着伴随他征战多年、此时仍透着阵阵血光的长剑,心中泛起点点酸楚。他放下长剑,发出一声叹息,然后端起面前的酒杯一饮而尽—— Windy winds rammed the flag hunting on the pole, the bloody battlefield spread to the sky, large areas of scarlet clouds in the dim sky, the air gazing rich blood ... ... under the shadow of a death Among the breath. The wind is sad, roaring, screaming. On the open land not far from the battlefield, there are only a handful of thousands of his troops stationed. He looked tired, his eyes on the long table before him. Only a pot on the table, a cup and a glow of faint glow sword. He Mozhu accompanied him for many years, this time still reveals the sword of bloody light, heart sounded bitter. He dropped his sword, made a sigh, and drank the glass in front of him -