The salty sea breeze poured into the nasal cavity, as if someone had poured a bowl of salt water into the lungs.
Lin Xiao opened his eyes suddenly and saw not the ceiling of the dormitory, but a gray sky. There were cries in my ears, the screams of seabirds, and... The smell of blood.
Very strong smell of blood.
He subconsciously wanted to turn over and put his right hand on the ground, but he touched a cold hand. Dead. He looked down and saw seven or eight corpses lying around, wearing shabby ancient linen clothes, with stab wounds all over their bodies. And there he was, lying among them, covered in blood—but the blood was not his.
A sharp pain suddenly exploded in my mind, and countless unfamiliar images flooded in: waves, fishing boats, a thin young man being pointed at a knife by several people in strange clothes... Finally, there was a name - Lin Xiao, the son of a fisherman in Wuyu Village, Fujian Province. He was sixteen years old. He had just been knocked unconscious by a Japanese pirate with the back of his knife, and fell into a pile of dead people, pretending to be dead, and then... He came.
He traveled through time.
