Where Mountains and Rivers Never Return

I lay in a coffin for fifteen years.

Fifteen years ago.

At the Battle of the Wei River, seventy thousand soldiers of the Western Garrison Army died in battle.

My father died.

My brothers died.

Everyone died.

The court told the world:

They had died in defeat.

But fifteen years later, when I crawled out of my coffin, I found that everyone was afraid.

The Divine Martial Guard was looking for me.

The great clans were looking for me.

The court was looking for me.

Even the dead from back then were looking for me.

Only later did I understand.

They weren't afraid of me.

They were afraid of the seventy thousand wronged souls beneath the Wei River.

Even more, they were afraid the truth of that day would come to light.

Because some people should have died.

Yet they have lived to this day.