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The wind blew through the Baimen Tower and fell in the third year of Jian'an. The once arrogant man finally lowered his proud head. On the city wall, the victor's understatement of "kill" seemed to have wiped away an inconspicuous speck of dust on his robe. He raised the knife and dropped it, blood splattered three feet. He was racing through his mind, and it wasn't until the last moment before he lost consciousness that the man suddenly realized why his unparalleled skills eventually led to his death at the hands of others. A ray of soul prays to the gods. If God has mercy on me, can he allow me to stay young again? The heavy snow in the sky and the biting cold wind blew this residual soul back to many years ago...