The cold night exudes a cold breath like a sword. There is no moonlight, which can just cover up the heinous and cruel evil deeds. In the peaceful courtyard, blood flowed all over the ground, dead bodies lying in a pool of blood, and the air was filled with the smell of blood and death. Behind a brutal massacre, there is often a terrible truth hidden. The night was so quiet, no one knew what kind of hell it was in the courtyard. There happened to be a hand that pushed open the door. It was a long, thin and pale hand, the hand of a young man. He pushed the door open without the slightest hesitation. The moon-white clothes brushed past the corpse, not stained by any dust. His footsteps suddenly stopped, he stopped and bent, and his slender fingers took out a petal from the chest of a corpse. The blood-red petals were redder than the blood on the ground. They were beautiful but exuded a fatal danger - the flowers that came from the darkness, were irrigated with human blood, and expelled had a beautiful but terrible name: Hell Flower Blood Poppy. The red flowers between the fingers were dazzling, just to reveal a terrible fact. The face of the man in moon-white clothes was covered by the night, and he couldn't see it clearly. There was only a pair of eyes, which flickered on and off, a little indifferent, a little sharp, a little wise, but deep down there was a dark ancient well, which was unusually conspicuous even in such a dark night.