At the southernmost edge of the Central Continent lay a beautiful place, with lush jungles, seas of colorful flowers, and glowing coral reefs and seas.
Its name was Haiya Province.
It was said that many years ago, this land had been much broader. That glowing sea had once been solid ground, upon which stood a prosperous city.
Yet one day, something suddenly fell from the sky and wiped it, along with the land beneath it, from existence.
Li Jinrong had never truly seen what this land had once looked like. He had only heard a few scattered fragments from his grandfather.
It was said that two hundred years ago, that glowing sea had been even more spectacular. Azure arcs of light had connected into one expanse, like burning flames.
They said those were Death's flames.
Everyone who saw them died.
Most people had migrated north with the help of the Postwar Reconstruction Committee. Even so, a small number had refused to leave their homeland. After all, the world had already been destroyed. What difference would going north make?
Death would come eventually.
Better to leave with dignity.
When he was very young, Li Jinrong did not understand why people back then had thought that way. How could humans, such tenacious creatures, possibly go extinct over something so trivial?
Even in places where grass could not survive, humans could.
And hadn't reality proved exactly that?
If those people had truly all died, then where had he come from?
What he did not understand was not only the despair in the hearts of those who stayed behind, but also why those people had fled. In his eyes as a child, there had clearly been a better way.
"Why didn't everyone band together and put out Death's flames?"
He still remembered asking his