He inscribed the words onto his bamboo slip with extreme care, as well as a lot of force. Each stroke of each character contained boundless killing intent. Blood dripped from his palm, down the length of the iron skewer, and onto the bamboo, filling the name with blood. Perhaps it was the blood that caused Xu Qing to think about events from the past.0

Thirteen years ago.1

Back then, he had a home, but it all came crashing to an end on one fateful day.0

The eyes of the broken god face opened, high in the dome of heaven. That gaze landed on the city where Xu Qing lived, and in an instant... heaven and earth blurred, all living things twisted and distorted, and the city disappeared.0

The only thing left behind were ruins and a blood rain falling from the sky. He was the only survivor, and...4