Qingwu swore an oath with his blood, tore open the nine-level ghost prison, and stepped on the throne of one hundred ghosts. In the past, her heart and soul were torn out by her best friend Yin Zhuo. She was reborn from the ashes and cut off the old warmth with a sword. Hundreds of ghosts walk in the night, the dark wind weeps blood, what she wants is not revenge, but to make the hands that wiped her tears covered with her own blood. Yin Zhuo stood on top of the throne, with frosty eyebrows, but every night he dreamed of her bleeding fingertips, caressing the old scar on his throat - the lock that had sealed her soul with his own hands. She came back, not for love, but to destroy him; for him to sit there, not for power, but to wait for her to come back. But the ghosts in this world are never allowed to regret.
