Cinderbone Ember

The neon lights in Nancheng couldn't illuminate the dark alleys in the demolition area. When Lin Mo bent down to pick up the cans, his side face drew hard lines under the street lights - the face that could make a talent scout stop. It was stained with dust and also concealed the talent of a bone age of 9.7. The year his parents died in an "accident", he clutched the blood-stained steering wheel and swore that anyone who touched his lame brother or timid sister would be broken into pieces. When the blood demon knocked on the door, he smashed the opponent's fangs with the steel pipe he picked up, and the runes on his palms burned like fire; when the Zhao family threatened to destroy him, he smiled and twisted off the thug's wrist and slapped the admission notice at the door of the martial arts university. The world said he was crazy because he dared to trample and build a nest to protect his cubs; people said he was ruthless because the grass on his enemy's grave was three feet high. Only he knew that when he touched the top of his sister's hair late at night, his fingertips would tremble; when he changed his brother's dressing, his Adam's apple would roll. Later, he became a legend in Nancheng. The blade drank the strongest blood and protected the warmest light. But in the last battle, he leaned against the broken wall, looking at the photo of his sister holding the Mathematical Olympiad trophy, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth into his collar. "Brother is here to protect you." The wind carried the ashes past, like someone sighing gently.