In the tide of the times, many chose to drift with the current. Yet upon the stream there was often a leaf, a branch—without exception, things of little worth. So insignificant that they could not help themselves, floating upon the surface of the stream, struggling desperately not to sink.
Emperor Yu had once more donned the fisherman's rain cape. A bamboo rod, a thin line.
He stared blankly at the rushing water, and at the fishhook struggling upon its surface, not knowing when it would snap and sink beneath some reef or muddy pool.
"The Central Plains have already fallen within Great Yu's territory. Once our army has rested for a century, we may advance upon the Heavenly Palace!"
A burly man approached and dropped to one knee behind Emperor Yu. He was strangely dressed, his black beast-hide coat hanging open to reveal the heart-protecting mirror beneath. His face was blue, his fangs protruding, his brown hair wild and unruly. He stood over two meters tall, and beneath his sleeves were countless tentacles. Yet those tentacles were not flesh and blood, reflecting a dazzling gleam beneath the sun. As he arrived, the sleeves continuously rang with the piercing metallic scrape of turning gears and clashing steel.
"Leave, Gear Sickle." Emperor Yu seemed weary of this interruption.
Yet Gear Sickle did not depart. His thick brows drew together. "Your Majesty has something weighing on your mind? Is it because Jia Shou, the Eastern Emperor Lord of the Immortal Court, has ordered the slaughter of the Central Plains?"
"He did issue the order after all."
Not a trace of change showed upon Emperor Yu's face. He merely asked, "What of the south?"
"The south?" A cold glint flashed through Gear Sickle's eyes. "This minister dares to offer Your Majesty counsel. The Qing