Rain began to fall from the sky.
It was neither a torrential downpour nor a raging storm. No rolling black clouds filled the heavens. Everything was peaceful, like the third month of spring, when the rain was soft as pastry.
Under the bright sunlight, the temperature was neither hot nor cold. Threads of rain drifted down, and farmers strolled through it, carrying the unique fresh fragrance of spring.
At first, the raindrops bore a faint golden sheen. Every so often, a glimmer of sharpness bloomed from them, as though they wished to rip apart heaven and earth and slaughter all living beings.
But as the drops fell upon the earth and more rain followed, the color of the rain changed.
The raindrops began to shift from gold to green. Dense, warped vitality seemed ready to make living creatures mutate instantly in endless directions, leaving even the bodies of gods and devils unstable.
Green then turned the color of water, as boundless destructive hydrogen-fusion intent flooded the surroundings...
Metal, wood, water, fire, earth—the foundations of all things between heaven and earth—cycled through the Six Paths again and again. With each cycle, the sharpness within the raindrops diminished by a thread.
In the end, every trace of sharpness vanished.
All destruction and splendor in this stretch of heaven and earth disappeared, becoming an utterly ordinary painting of a watery land in the third month of spring. Like the work of a master painter, it spread in every direction and shrouded all things.
Within this painting of spring rain over a watery land in the third month, a puppet covered in cracks slowly rose from a deep pit.
Countless threads like ink-wash lines surrounded him, twisting and changing, exuding a horrifying aura that sent chills through the heart. No one dared look directly