Qiao Er walked slowly on the plank road, swaying back and forth in the mist, giving him a sense of nostalgia, like swinging during his childhood.
His former name was buried long ago.
He was called "Qiao Er" because when he woke up, he was hanging under the second bridge of his hometown... thus escaping the massacre.
The past holds nothing worth talking about, nothing but hatred.
He had lived in Linzi for a long time, spending most of his time blending in ordinarily, occasionally coming out to do some things.
Like gathering some intelligence, spreading some rumors, or killing a few people...
In this sinful city built on bones and cemented with blood, there were others like him. Of course, he didn't know who they were, and they didn't know him either. The only thing they were sure of was that they were not alone.
Because there was always communication being passed along.
In the heartland of this vast empire, they were secretly building a "home."
