Lihuo Chongming

In the sixth year of the Apocalypse, there was a loud noise in the southwest corner of Beijing. Tens of thousands were killed and injured, and the dragon's veins were cut off. History books call it the "Wang Gong Factory Explosion." No one knew that this was not an accident in the gunpowder warehouse, but a targeted elimination of Eastern civilization by the contract of heaven. Fate is executed here, and humanity is beheaded here. But a thousand years before that, a fortune teller in Chang'an City left sixteen words. "Nine purples are in the sky, and all things are reduced to ashes; the way of humanity is endless, and this fire will not burn." Yuan Shoucheng knew that he would not see that day. He could only carve this sentence into a jade slip, bury it deep in the earth's veins, and wait for many years after a dusk without guests passed, and wait for the fate called "Nine Purple Fire" to arrive. The people who climbed out of the ruins of the sixth year of the Apocalypse took over this thread. They are not gods or saints. The saints were banned, the three emperors were trapped, Nuwa was expelled, and Jiejiao was suppressed. They are just the survivors after the dragon's veins exploded, guarding the last fire, hiding in the market and hiding in the mountains. They have to wait three hundred years. Three hundred years later, Nine Purples arrived. Humanity is revived and tunnels are loosened. Those things that were sealed began to loosen. Those forgotten names began to echo. The parasitic system of Western false gods began to be burned by Lihuo. The cave-dwelling demons of those days also crawled out of the ground, trying to devour them one last time before dawn. A civilized counterattack began.