Mo Ji still remembers the yellow sand that year, sweeping through everyone's hearts like an evil dragon. He has never seen human blood so much that it can't be left out no matter how much it is kept. It just flows along the yellow sand, and is swept up by the wind into the black sky. Then, those who should have left are still handsome now, while those who should have stayed have long since turned into sand. . . . . .
Conception: