Before everything begins, first imagine a dying person. He has no surname or given name, no sect or clan. But because one last thought still lingers, with the final rise of his chest, he divides his last breath in two: one half sinks, the other rises. That breath is not air, but the regrets of a lifetime left unfulfilled: countless thoughts of "if only I'd done things differently" and "I could have been". Like two opposing undercurrents, they coil around each other in the void until they finally take shape. The half that sinks becomes eight seas of suffering; the half that rises forms nine inverted mountains. Once the mountains and seas exist, the thoughts of all living beings take on shape and weight. The world is no longer a landscape that holds all things, but a vast medical record documenting every affliction of "what cannot be attained" and "what cannot be cast off." People call it: The Nine Mountains and Eight Seas
