Wanxu Guguangji

To the north of the bright moon, Xuanshuang's sharp teeth gnaw at the earth. In the Weeping Blood Rift, lava is the only breath and the source of the curse. For hundreds of years, hatred has been entangled under the frozen soil and bloomed with scarlet flowers. That year, the severe cold pierced the bone marrow, The camel team strayed into the meat grinding ground of steel and flames. His father screamed, his sister coughed up blood, and Bai Feng's last scream was buried by the avalanche. Under the cold waves, the enthusiasm in the warrior's eyes faded, All that remains is the same panic about white death. He, Lu Xingjue, was absent from the funeral. But next to the tribe's heater, I received a cold obituary notice. From the ruins, he dragged out his broken relatives and his broken home. The two giant cities cast an indifferent glance: "The necessary price." So, the young man carried the tribe's breathing on his shoulders, The business road is the edge of the sword, and lies are the thorns. My father's broken leg is a road sign, and my sister's cold cough is a warning. The fire of hatred burned in my chest, but it was tempered into a colder blade—— It's not about pointing at any city, but about splitting the century-old frozen layer that covers the truth. He dives into the shadows of war to collect avalanche debris. An ice crystal containing fear, a dying whisper, They are all arrows fired at the wall of hatred. He wants to stand on the top of the Weeping Blood Chasm, Let the white light of destruction illuminate all pupils again, Let the deafening sound of the avalanche drown out the centuries-old shouts of killing. Prove it to this frozen world: Before the ruthless power of heaven and earth, All the deep-seated hatred is as thin as a piece of pale paper.