The iron hoofs of the Liao army crushed the mountains and rivers, and the sixteen states of Yanyun flowed into rivers of blood. A small border post became the only island in a thousand miles of scorched earth.
The moment the postman Chen San cut off the suspension bridge, he ruined his own future, but opened a door to hell for hundreds of displaced people.
Soldiers, merchants, farmers, craftsmen, orphans and widows... Strangers who don't know each other, tear off their disguises in a desperate situation.
Three days of food, enough for a hundred people, surrounded by tigers and wolves, inside and outside the low wall of the inn, human nature is being destroyed in the beacon fire.
The businessman took out the life-saving food from the bottom of the box, and the blacksmith recast the scrap iron into a knife;
The old soldier swallowed his last sip of wine, and the young boy raised his firewood;
The desperate peasant woman clutched the rusty sickle...
They were ants who wanted to survive, but they were pushed into the arena of troubled times.
That night, the granary turned into a slaughterhouse, and the inn turned into a tombstone.
The blood letter of an ordinary postman was finally engraved on the broken land of Yanyun.
