History of Qin: Solitary Ashes Falling to the West

There is no sky in the western border, and there is no life in the wasteland. My father died beside the fence, with two bloody cuts left by the knife, and he refused to close his eyes. The young man Feizi stood barefoot in the wilderness, took over the bloody knife from his father, and inherited the unfinished survival of his family. The Rong and Di robbed horses, the Central Plains were despised, and the troubled times were ruthless. There are no natural tigers or wolves here, only living people who have been forced into desperate situations. Others rise by chance, but he moves forward by relying on the experience and obsession of generations of dead souls. Every step brings a blood mark, a knife brings an old debt. From the horse slaves in the wilderness of Quanqiu to the beginning of the six hundred years of Qin's foundation. With the remains of ashes and bones, I will hang on to the sky for a lifetime.