Fuxi's fingertips traced the cracks of the tortoise shell, and star maps circulated in his pupils. "Sister, you see the seventh star track has shifted." His voice was low, like a jade chime that had been polished for thousands of years. "Three thousand years from now, there will be a great disaster in this world. The blood will be cut off and the fire will be extinguished."
Nuwa was inserting the last five-color stone into the crack in the sky, and the remaining energy of patching the sky condensed into colorful strands of light in her hair. "The calamity is both a fixed number and a variable...
