In the twenty-sixth year of the Republic of China, the current situation was like ink. He lurks in the gap between light and darkness, using a borrowed identity to maneuver in the chess game of multiple forces. There are no clear coordinates of belief, no similar people to entrust, only the mission is a temporary anchor. In the web of lies, he couldn't tell what was truth and what was disguise, and even himself became a blur. Every choice leads to the unknown, every silence hides a blade, betrayal and redemption are intertwined in the fog, and loyalty and selfishness are pulled in a desperate situation. He is like a lonely boat, sailing in the night sea with no other shore, struggling to find the meaning of existence in an absurd situation, and the outline of the truth always turns into deeper nothingness when it is within reach. Who is he in this war without gunpowder? Where will it go again?
