Several years later.
The world had grown very quiet. Everyone in many places had died out. Birds and beasts reclaimed villages and towns, breeding and thriving, creating a strange sort of prosperity. Rabbits entered through dog holes, pheasants flew from the rafters; nine out of ten households stood empty.
Chang'an was no longer prosperous. It lay steeped in deathly stillness, like an aged man on the verge of burial.
Outside the city, on a wild grassy hillside where the wind blew cool.
Bai Yujun stood quietly, tightly clutching an oil-paper umbrella as she gazed at the ancient capital of Chang'an. She had stood here for more than half a month, waiting for someone to arrive—waiting to fulfill the promise she had once made, and to vent a breath of resentment.
After several years of struggle, Li Tang was finally about to sink. This great ship was about to become dust in history.
Powerful ministers held the court in their grasp and imprisoned the emperor. Laughably, those ministers even dreamed of replacing the Li Tang emperor and becoming overlords, never realizing that they too were passengers aboard the sinking ship of Li Tang. They rebelled and sought to kill the emperor. The Imperial Prince of old, now Emperor Renwu, refused to submit. Loyal ministers and soldiers aided him, and the two sides began a bloody slaughter within the ancient capital.
The killing lasted three days and three nights. Blazing Fire consumed the city.
The roaring inferno burned the imperial palace and half of Chang'an, while also burning away the fate of this ancient capital. Chang'an fell from grace. Black smoke filled the sky, dark clouds rolling overhead. The Chang'an that had once flourished was destroyed by humanity itself. The Chang'an that had captivated countless poets and left behind eternal verses was