In the wilderness, everything has its frame.
The grass and trees have tendons, the rocks have patterns, and even the passing wind has its own fulcrum.
Jiang Wuhui, the last "bone carver" in the wilderness.
He carries a heavy bronze box on his back. He does not care about his future or destination, but only trusts the twelve engraved knives in his palm.
In his eyes, all the skins and skins in this world are illusions, and only the solemn white bones are the truth of life.
"I'm just a craftsman. Now, please cooperate and don't break my materials."
