When Xuan Chen opened his eyes amid the deafening thunder, he saw an upside-down sky.
The bronze clouds were torn into pieces by the huge force, and each cloud was dripping with hot golden blood—later he found out that it was the bone marrow that spattered when Pangu's spine broke. He huddled in the cold and wet rock crevices, his body covered with moss-like scales. The tribe's shaman said these were "scabs of the chosen one," but he only felt itchy, as if there were living things crawling under the scales.
"Xuan Chen! Lift the cauldron!"
I really like this type, it's very beautiful.