Amidst the wind and snow, a young man with a red scarf walked down the Wuqing Mountain. He carried a dark knife on his back and walked toward the world in his heart.
Where are the rivers and lakes?
Piaoxue said: "I don't know, but the world will tell me that I will find them and then use my hot blood to melt the shackles."
…
I spent the first half of my life searching for a path in the snow, and the next ten years I spent listening to the rain across the river.
(The name was chosen carelessly at the time. The book is called "Blood Roar". Please ignore the four words "Xuanwu Mingblade".)
The writing is wonderful and delicate.