The morning light barely shone through, a faint red glow spread across the edge of the sky, as the dawn was dyed red.
The mountain forest was silent, with white mist drifting leisurely in the morning breeze.
Like wandering ghosts of the dead, giving one a sense of unease after witnessing them.
...
Gui Province.
Fanjing Mountain.
Not far from Xiang Province.
At the mountain top.
A young boy knelt before a thin middle-aged man.
The middle-aged man's expression was sorrowful, looking at the boy before him, he said once more to the boy, "Xiaodong, promise me, do it quickly, then leave here with the captain, and head east."
Blood flowed continuously from the man's mouth; saying these words had almost exhausted all his strength.
The boy's youthful face was filled with pain and conflict, as the dagger in his hand trembled slightly.
In the time of the apocalypse, surprises and accidents never announce which will come first.
But most are accidents, painful accidents.
