He rested a hand on the jade railing, standing alone at the head of the Bridge of Forgetting.
The air between heaven and earth was filled with the serene, lingering scent of white sandalwood.
His heart was hell, and the world before him a sea of suffering.
Waves of evil surged across that sea before the vermilion halls and jade terraces, carrying a blood-soaked wind across a boundless expanse.
Yet in this life, he could no longer turn back.
He could not turn back.
He did not dare turn back.
