Thousands of miles away from the red land in the northwest, what rises from the official road is not yellow sand, but blood. Fifteen-year-old Lin Yu huddled in the cold cellar, the smell of rot mixed with the strong smell of rust - the smell of blood. Outside the gap, the father's chopped-in-half body collapsed, and the mother's shrill cry suddenly ended with the muffled sound of the blood-stained gun tip hitting it. Deathly silence enveloped the scorched earth, and the only sound was the crunching of corpses trampled by horse hooves. When the killers were gone, Lin Yu crawled out of the ruins, dipped his fingertips in the uncold blood of his parents, and carved a word as deep as bone marrow on the broken earth wall: hatred. At dusk, a white wolf cub whose shoulder blade was pierced by an arrow stumbled into this deathly land, dragging blood stains, whimpering and licking the bloody words on the wall. The young man's bloodshot eyes and the wolf cub's dark green pupils met in the bloody dusk. From then on, their journey to the northwest began!
