The prosperous Chang'an is no longer there, but Maoling is still there.
I'm still here.
I am a lonely soul born from the mausoleum, waiting for hundreds of thousands of years because of the lingering love and hate of an emperor.
The man in the game, the soul on the outside.
It wasn't until the bodhi incense burnt out all the dust, and until the emperor's years turned into dead wood, that all this hazyness was unveiled.
But, is my onlooker soul really that magnificent young master?