A prosperous city, a battleground. A heart given to the wrong people, a life wasted in folly.
Amid a thousand threads of worldly entanglement, we are all bones rotting in our graves.
As he climbed step by step to the high platform, the thunderous applause below made no sound. The only thing that rang out from palms meeting was the hunger for power.
The breeze carries him up the jade steps, as the drama spirals toward the highest heavens.
When autumn skies are clear and he gazes over the river, could he ever have dreamed of this day in his humble student days?
Whoever holds the sword of power is the only one with the right to carve black and white from this ashen world.
It's so well written that you won't want to put it down.
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