Fate Pattern Inscription Soul

In the Beihuang Recruitment Camp, in front of the pattern mirror, Lu Wei pressed his hand on it - nothing lit up on the mirror. No tattoos. Waste. Not even qualified to be cannon fodder. The Hunting Hall nailed the "grainless" wooden sign to the camp gate for public display. He pried it off and broke it in public, burning half of it into the stove and putting the other half in his arms. In the mural at the ruins of Broken Gun, the remnant soul of a general who died in battle for four hundred years turned his head: "Is the life mark empty? Only when it is empty can things be loaded. Do you want to pack it?" He pretended. One is not enough. Two, three, four, five. Different dynasties, different ways of death, the same unfinished obsession - five unforgettable souls put their last breath into his hands. The Soul Hunting Hall wants to take him in. The Great Yan Dynasty wanted to destroy him. Behind the rift at the edge of the world, something bigger awaits. An empty life mark, pretending to be the soul of a dead person. The path of the living begins where the dead have finished. Those without stripes are not useless. It's empty.