Zhang Yu stood with his hands behind his back atop a severely cracked stone platform, gazing at the ruined scene before him.
The place beneath his feet had once been an altar, the highest point of the entire ruin. Yet now, its former splendor and grandeur had been replaced by decay and desolation, buried deep within this forest, never again to be visited by anyone.
Yet in his eyes at this moment, everything around him—including the stone paths, buildings, canals, and gardens—began slowly restoring itself. The rotten trees and flowers bloomed anew, and clear spring water once more flowed through the magnificent city.
Natives clad in all manner of finely woven robes walked along the broad flagstone paths. From time to time, children chased and played their way across the road, drawing scoldings from the adults.
Many female priests, dressed in white robes, wearing woven flower crowns, and freshly cleansed, carried exquisite golden vessels as they descended with solemn steps to the foot of the altar.
An old priest in magnificent attire, wearing a feathered crown and golden ornaments across his chest, passed by him and offered sacrifices to the deity upon the altar.
Yet all of it was ultimately drowned beneath a wash of blood-colored radiance. When that crimson light surged forth, the splendor and majesty decayed and collapsed along with it.
He held out a hand. A falling leaf landed in his palm, then turned to ash in the blink of an eye.
All things in this world waxed and waned. Even without these events, this ancient city would one day, as time flowed on, be buried in the long river of history.
Even those gods who called themselves eternal could not escape the turning of the ages. Once they were cut off from faith and offerings, they