I, Duan Yijun, am twenty-five years old. I graduated from Huangpu and was commissioned to teach swordsmanship. I am now the major commander of the seventh battalion of the 598th Regiment of the 200th Division of the Fifth Army of the National Army.
At the end of the 30th year of the Republic of China, the Japanese invaded Myanmar. Storms broke out on our southwest border and the Burma Highway was in danger. The British and American governments formed a golden alliance with the Nationalist Government of our country to join forces to fight against the Japanese. More than ten thousand soldiers of our 200th Division then marched to western Yunnan and prepared their troops vigorously. They will be the vanguard of the expedition to Burma in the coming days. They will go straight to the heart of the Japanese slaves and protect our rear area in the Southwest War of Resistance...
No one would have expected that just three months later, our souls and bodies would be buried in the weakly acidic blood-red soil of a foreign country, corroded, and disappeared without a trace.
Wanting to go home and wanting to win - these two seemingly contradictory desires collapsed in an instant when the enemy troops approached the Nu River. We, who have made the home front the frontline, are now literally homeless.
This is the story of me and a group of people who have lost their souls; we embark on a journey again because we must find something that cannot be seen or touched.
Blow the trumpet under the fortress, and the sound will be heard in the rivers and mountains.