Hunter Turns Martial Saint Chapter 101

In winter, the first snow comes early.

For the rich, the first snow is one of the few entertainments in winter. Appreciating the snow and reciting poems is one of the elegant activities.

But for poor people, snow is like a death knock on the door. The cold wind and ice and snow will make their already difficult lives even more difficult.

There is no charcoal, no rice, my stomach is growling with hunger, and my toes are so frozen that they seem to fall off. At this moment, even if I have the poetic feeling in my stomach, I can't recite any poem.

On the side of the road, a ragged little beggar with a blue face was lying in the arms of an older, disheveled beggar.