At the foot of the Flame Mountain, the flames are burning day and night, and not a single blade of grass grows within a hundred miles. Song Qian stood on the scorched earth, holding in his hand a dead tree seed that had just been pulled out of the ashes - this was the only hope of life he found in this hell.
No one knew that this man whose skin and flesh were burned to pieces by the flames could actually communicate with plants and trees. While others were praying for rain and Buddha, he had already heard the seeds whispering for help in the soil.
But what he didn't know was that the fire on the westbound journey was never an accident - it was a carefully planned massacre. Under the scorched earth under his feet, the innocent souls of the entire mountain were buried.
