"If my bones become an immortal legend, will you step through the dust of time and come to my grave to offer a bouquet of white chrysanthemums?"
It was a childhood shrouded in the haze of fate.
With the help of the mysterious Puppet Fruit, she pulled her dead father back from the road to hell. Those young but tired eyes had long seen through the terrifying truth hidden behind this - this was the beginning of a curse, the prelude to a never-ending nightmare.
The Jinhui family, this ancient family that hides countless secrets in the world, has been burdened for generations with a secret that is heavy enough to crush the soul.
Whenever the eyes of a child in the family are as clear as glass, it is the moment when fate sounds the alarm.
At this time, the elders of the family will silently prepare a dagger, a dagger used to kill relatives.
The cold blade shimmered with cold light, as if telling the coming blood and despair.
"Mom, why don't I have horns?"
"Because we love you."
"Dad, your horn is bleeding."
The father was silent and did not answer, but his clenched hands revealed the pain and struggle in his heart.
Later, she gradually understood.
The spiritual transformation master's seemingly sacred inheritance ceremony was never an awakening of power, but an extremely cruel sacrifice.
In this sacrifice, family affection and humanity were ruthlessly trampled, leaving only cold blood and endless pain.
"Alice, why am I different from you?"
"Because you are the one who is going to be the sword bearer."
Hundreds of years passed by in a hurry like a fleeting moment.
When the troubadours were singing the legend of the Jinhui family in the streets, a young girl, with a tall and straight figure but showing endless loneliness and vicissitudes of life, stood quietly on the ruins of the temple.
She slowly lowered her head and glanced at the hornless "dragon" bones on the ground.
Are their souls wandering in these ruins, are they still waiting?
("What a shame for Jin Hui, when will you... Sacrifice me?")
This lament from the depths of the soul is like the cry of a night owl, echoing in the darkness, telling the pain and struggle of this family for thousands of years...
(Early ideas, manuscripts are available)
Mission: The truth will never be buried
