All My Clones Are Bosses

The world only sees the dark and dark color of the Blood-feathered Crow, but they don't know that there is a hot, even burning heart beating in its chest. I am Chen Mo, a shadow lingering in the cracks of time, perhaps anchored in the present, or perhaps long forgotten in the past. Countless "chess pieces" selected by the spindle of destiny, with either high-sounding or naked obsessions - the banner of justice, the shackles of success or failure - are frantically impacting this huge chessboard that envelopes the world invisibly. They crave subversion and attempt to rewrite. I understand the bone-gnawing pain. If the most important person turns into cold dust in his arms, anyone will turn into a vengeful beast and bite the invisible "culprit". They held the torch high and charged in the fog, unaware of the shadow of the real chess player hiding behind the scenes. They tried their best to smear and tear away, trying to change, but in the end, what they tried to change was just a blank sheet of paper that had already been spread out. I am not wrong. It's just that... I really want to hold on to that passing light, even if the cost is this eternal chess game and endless... Oblivion.