I Have a Death Scythe

When he was twelve years old, the chain massacred the whole village. The father held a hoe to block the entrance of the cellar, and the mother fell at his feet. Silence covered her mouth and huddled in the darkness, neither crying nor shouting. Her fingertips touched a black sickle rising from the ground. Its name was Night Crow, and it had been waiting for him for three hundred years. People say that this is the legendary death scythe, which cuts through everything and destroys nothing. No one knows that its base material is a piece of scrap that everyone despises. It was hammered out by a blind old blacksmith in the dark. No one knows that the God of Death didn't come to bless you on the night of quenching—— It was the sound of hammers that had been hammering for ten years that attracted it. From the child in the cellar to the Grim Reaper who has won forty-seven consecutive victories in the underground death arena. Everyone thought he was born for revenge. Only Nightcrow knows. His end point is never killing. It's about keeping.