Yinyue Dynasty, a certain city.

The world was like a blood-red painting, with piles of corpses everywhere.

Fang Chang sat cross-legged in a pool of blood, his eyes slightly closed. His clothes were tattered, hanging on him like rags. The mountain of corpses and sea of blood before him were his handiwork.

Since leaving the battlefield of life and death, he had embarked on a frenzied killing spree to gain power. Humans, the creation of heaven and earth, the spirit of all things, were the best elixir he could find.