Two of the street lamps in the alley were broken, and the dim light shone on the wet ground, reflecting three crooked silhouettes.
I had just returned from fighting at the northern border of Myanmar, and my clothes were still stained with blood that had not yet dried. The smell of blood mixed with the night wind penetrated my nose, making my throat tight. The final battle in the Dragon King Palace lasted for seven days and seven nights. I broke the necks of twelve rebels with my own hands to suppress the civil strife.
