Raindrops began to fall from the sky.
It was neither a downpour nor a raging storm. There were no rolling dark clouds overhead; everything was peaceful, like spring rain in March, soft as crisp pastry.
Beneath the bright sunlight, the temperature was neither high nor low. Fine rain drifted down in fluttering threads as farmers strolled through it, carrying the distinctive fresh fragrance of spring.
At first, the raindrops bore a trace of golden sheen, occasionally blooming with a sliver of sharpness, as though they would tear apart heaven and earth and slaughter all living things.
But as the drops fell to the ground and more followed, the color of the rain threads began to change.
The raindrops shifted from gold to green, their dense vitality mutating grotesquely, as if they would instantly twist living creatures in countless directions, leaving even the bodies of Gods and Devils unstable;
The green then turned watery, as boundless hydrogen-fusion destruction and the Will of Destruction filled all directions...
Gold, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth—the foundations that made up all things in heaven and earth—cycled through the Six Paths of Reincarnation again and again. With every cycle, the sharpness within the raindrops diminished by a fraction.
In the end, all sharpness vanished.
All destruction and splendor in this stretch of heaven and earth disappeared, becoming an utterly ordinary painting of a March waterside town, spreading in every direction like the work of a famed master and shrouding everything.
Within this painting of spring rain over a March waterside town, a puppet covered in cracks slowly rose from a deep pit.
Countless threads like ink-wash strokes circled him, twisting and shifting, radiating a terrifying aura that chilled the soul. No one dared look at them for even a moment, for a mortal soul would instantly collapse