On 3rd January 1937.
Far away in China something was about happen that will echo in the history forever to come.
A history which has its moral blurred with people trying to understand right and wrong.
It will keep reminding people when a nation is under subjugation everything falls aparts.
The wind carried the stench of burning wood outskirts of Tianjin.
A field long abandoned by crops had been turned into a makeshift execution ground.
The ground was frozen solid.
Not a crow in sight.
Even the birds feared what was to come.
Soldiers stood in disciplined rows, rifles slung across their backs, their boots cracking frost underfoot.
At the center of it all, 128 people knelt, their hands bound, their faces locked in that terrible space between pleading and resignation
Colonel Zhu Han watched the formation silently.
He had not slept.
For nights now, he'd replayed orders in his mind, recited them like scripture, hoping they would start to feel righteous.
But they hadn't.
