A Thought Across the Ages

In the deepest folds of space and time lies an immeasurably vast, ancient river.

It begins in the chaos before Hongmeng was divided and ends at Guixu, the edge of the myriad heavens.

Across its shimmering surface, countless visions endlessly shift and flow: sword cultivators step through astral footwork, their swords sweeping out a scene of the Milky Way hanging upside down; the nine-headed Xiangliu spews poisonous miasma, corroding the void wherever it goes; the twelve strings of beads atop the Human King’s crown shatter and scatter amid the flames of war.

The joys and sorrows, partings and reunions of mortal beings are as insignificant as morning dew, gone in the blink of an eye.

At the river’s heart, a bronze coffin floats alone. The Taotie patterns etched across its surface have grown indistinct, and dark red bloodstains, washed by the currents of time, have congealed into mysterious, profound runes…