The snow on the seventeenth day of the twelfth lunar month was mixed with gravel and was so rough that it scratched one's face. When Bell Tower dragged his broken leg slowly across the bluestone, what he dragged out behind him was not a trace of snow, but a ditch of blood mixed with ice. "When the animal skin volume of the technique was stained with blood and mutated, the heart-piercing pain and the bloody galaxy exploding in my mind...
