Dusk is chaotic and ambiguous. Some people pursue its warmth, but when they reach the other shore, they only see a lonely cold moon. Some people pray for the tranquility behind it, and when they are inside, they think they are safe, but they are destroyed by the morning dew. But dusk happened to be the color of the royal capital at this time, and it was lonely and gloomy, making it even more dilapidated. Only the majestic royal city under the blurred light tells of its former glory. Inside the strict barrier, the sound of brooms scratching the floor and the sound of wind echoed in the spacious palace. The grand occasion of dominating the Central Plains ten years ago seems to be older than the ancient legends. The king who built that empire passed away this morning...
He said to his son with the sword pointed at him: "Let her go free."
The son was so angry that he laughed back: "Don't you ever regret it?"
The past of the current dynasty has become a thing of the past. What kind of story will the newcomers interpret in this land washed away by rain?