On a rainy night in the south of the Yangtze River, the entire Ling family was massacred. Thirteen-year-old Ling Chen clutched a rusty iron sword and crawled out of the sea of blood from the mountain of corpses, with only ice-hardened hatred in his eyes. He said to Shen Muyan who was shaking like chaff behind him: "They killed my whole family, and I will kill them all in the future."
At that time, Shen Muyan was afraid of seeing blood and wanted to hide from the sword, but was tied up by this blood-stained figure. He watched Ling Chen sharpen the rusty iron sword into a sharp blade, and watched him transform from a clumsy young man to an avenger who killed his enemy with one strike - in order to seek revenge, he could lie in the mud for three days and three nights, draw a sword on his savior, and chew up the words "cutting off the grass and rooting out" into his stomach.
Shen Muyan tried to persuade him, was afraid, and even thought about escaping. But he looked at the injury on Ling Chen's shoulder, the ruthlessness of the pursuers, and the fact that there was no "soft-handed" way to survive in this world. He didn't know when his hand when delivering the medicine stopped shaking, and he no longer closed his eyes when helping to deal with the traces. Even when Ling Chen hesitated in swinging his sword, he would remind him in a low voice: "Keeping alive means leaving a source of trouble for yourself."
One climbs up on the bloody road, the sharper the sword, the harder the heart; the other is dragged along on the bloody road, the timid and the heavier the feet.
When the last enemy fell under the sword, Ling Chen's action of wiping the sword paused, and Shen Muyan's hand holding the water stopped in mid-air.
The road to the world is long and the hatred is over, but who can wash away the things carved into the bones in the night rain?
