The flames of war are flying, rivers of blood are forming, and there is a desolation and thousands of miles of bones.
Family feud and shame, mother and father are separated, secret hatred arises, blood stains the rivers and lakes.
He took poison himself and became ill. He smiled happily, but his dream was locked in sorrow.
Wulin meets, life and death, scheming, but nothing left to hate.
Holding the sword to the sky, I swear to conquer the country, I am the master.
Dream of three thousand, the road turns, empty lamentation.
Holding hands, parting silently, the flames soaring into the sky, it is the stranger between Yin and Yang.
On the road to the underworld, there are always bright lights, looking forward to it, just to cross over to the next life.
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Conception: