On the top of the fusang tree in Tanggu, ten three-legged golden crows have been imprisoned by Emperor Jun for thousands of years. The younger brothers were chattering and discussing how to burn the witch clan to death after we got out. I squatted on the thickest branch and said nothing. The image of Hou Yi drawing his bow filled his mind - sooner or later the nine arrows would be shot down. I looked down at the true sun fire lingering between my claws, and then at the nine brothers below who were impassioned. How about we change the script?
