The coastline is broken, and the black waves are like silent blades, cutting the veins of time. Chun’s figure is reorganized in the broken light and shadow, and the swift knife cuts through the air, making a cold cutting sound. Her three hair colors are illusions, illusions, and fragments of the self that are constantly split in the stream of consciousness. Annihilation is no longer a simple force, but dark blood seeping out of the cracks, carrying cold toxins, penetrating into every inch of the texture.
Deng Deng is a residual image in a claustrophobic space, and the long blade sways between her fingers, like a hanging blade, trembling in the dark. The shadow she summons is her own ghost, the condensed loneliness and confusion. Her movements are mechanical and disordered, like being trapped in the cage of time, unable to break free, and can only repeat the endless waving.
The 1.4 card pool is like a silent deconstruction. Chun and Deng Deng are not messengers of light, but reflections of darkness, fission and reorganization of the old order. Yinlin’s re-engraving is more like an illusion, an echo of memory on the edge of shattering, erratic, but nowhere to be placed.
Jinxi and Sanhua’s new skins are like corroded statues, with strange beauty in the cracks. Time has left silent traces on them, and tenderness and cruelty are intertwined into unspeakable silence.
Players’ waiting is like staring into the abyss, and resource accumulation is a kind of self-anesthesia, a mixture of fear and expectation for the unknown future. Treabar recharge is a ray of reality in nothingness, and the short three minutes is a silent torture of the meaning of existence.
Mingchao’s world is no longer a simple fantasy, it is a fragment in the endless rift, and it is a secret unknown on the Black Coast. The story of Chun and Deng Deng is a whisper in the dark, a hidden gap in the broken reality. Version 1.4 is a silent storm that is brewing in secret.