In the winter of the thirteenth year of Jian'an, the fire in Red Cliff should have burned out the warships in the north, and also burned out the Three Kingdoms we know well. But that night, when the southeast wind blew, it brought not only fire, but also something else. At first no one noticed it, they just thought it was because the river fog was getting thicker, carrying a refreshing air that could not be suppressed by the ashes of vegetation. It wasn't until after the battle that the inventory was taken, an old soldier with a broken leg was humming in the pile of corpses. Before he could finish saying "I'm sorry, your takeaway," the portion of braised chicken and rice in his hand fell to the ground. It wasn't that he was scared, but that there was a sudden "ding" in his head, and a few lines of translucent words appeared out of thin air in front of his eyes, like a low-quality web page pop-up window, which said "Martial Arts Editor has been activated". He was stunned at the entrance of the corridor in the old community. The voice-activated lights flickered on and off, and the penetrating cries of the neighbor's children came from downstairs, mixed with the panicked shouts of adults - "Hands! The child's hands are on fire!"
