After three hundred years in the underground fire mine, the blood of Dongli's lineage should have been drained long ago.
Chen Jin also thought so when he was branded with the "Mark of the Lamb". Until the blood-stained frost chrysanthemum bit his fingertips and awakened a sleeping name——
"My name is Dongli."
From then on, flower rhizomes grew from the bones of the mining slaves, and a golden elixir made of ice formed deep in the waste veins. His enemies say that he is a remnant who should not exist in this world, and his colleagues fear that he is a murderous demon king.
Only the woman who always wipes her sword on moonlit nights knows that the frost chrysanthemum on his heart hurts every time the snow falls.
"Because of Dongli's lineage," the tip of her sword lifted up the hem of his clothes, revealing the winding frost-colored flower marks underneath, "they died to protect the common people."
Shen Jin grabbed her wrist and put the sword edge against his throat: "What about you? Su Wanqiu - are you here to kill me, or are you here to accompany me and overthrow this filthy Nine Heavens?"
Intention: When the world kisses me with pain, will I become a new tyrant, or will I become the frost at dawn - cold and clean, but silent but splitting the night?
