The Underworld, eternally steeped in deathly stillness.
The only sea of flowers had no wind. The blooming flowers exuded a sinister chill, while little paths converged into broad roads. Lost souls of creatures great and small from different realms slowly moved forward. Some wept, reluctant to part; others curiously looked around. More were muddled firefly-like glimmers, passing down Yellow Springs Road and through the sea of flowers.
Occasionally, certain branching paths came to a halt, and no lost souls entered the Underworld. Abandoned branches would also once again receive lost souls.
Order was out of balance, rules remained unseen, and the mechanism that guided lost souls flickered on and off.
She no longer cared what the flowers were called. Whatever their names, they had all been bestowed later according to personal preference. The sea of flowers had existed for ages before it was named. Names had lost their meaning; tossing them to the back of her mind was enough.
By the roadside, a girl carrying a saber bent down and tore off a leafless flower. She skillfully held it between her teeth, staring into the distance alone in a daze.
She looked sixteen or seventeen, with a slender figure and long hair casually tied behind her head with a strip of cloth. Two slightly small dragon horns rose from her head, along with the pointed ears unique to the dragon race.
She was not actually spacing out. Staying here allowed her to observe Ghost Gate Pass at close range and analyze the root cause of Yellow Springs Road's instability. The calculations could not be completed in a day or two; it was a massive undertaking that consumed time and energy. She knew she might not succeed, but she had to try.
The Underworld lacked the vibrant splendor of the Yang