The weather in winter is always cold. The biting cold wind mercilessly strips away the last trace of warmth from the human body. You can even feel the slightest warmth when wading through the cold water on your palms. Kyoto is naturally no exception, but this chill is also mixed with faint fear and deathly silence.
It was already the third person this month. Yuan Boya walked into the hidden and dark alley, carrying a two-meter long bow of dark brown ash wood, a fine iron dagger and an exquisite white jade piccolo tied with a red knotted rope around his waist.
The street outside the alley is Kyoto's famous Flower Street. Even on a desolate winter night, it still presents an extremely lively scene. Crowds of people formed pairs with each other, chanting poems and drinking, enjoying themselves. Little did they know that in a narrow alley not far away, the third death this month had already occurred.
Conception: