The crimson sky, the crimson wind.
The vat of bright red blood in the dark night was boiling in layers of hot mist.
The blood that filled the air condensed into countless resentful spirits.
There is no enthusiasm between the slightly furrowed brows, the slender arms squander the cold sword energy, and ten years of hatred have blinded the kind nature.
The warm heartstring in the memory, accompanied by the light blue light, is like a familiar melody, chanting again and again in the endless night.
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