I sit on the high throne of the Temple of the Immortal. The black tassels and purple-gold laurels set off the pure white jade throne. The empty white marble covers the entire temple. On the top of the high temple is carved the sword of death. The God of the Underworld was pierced by a sword, and the angry and blooming flowers of the undead were all over the ground around him, surrounding his pale and blood-stained but stubborn and paranoid face of ice and snow. The red blood was spread out, but it was as warm as spring in the magma of hell.