In this world, almost nothing remained forever unchanged. Everything would gradually change with the passage of time.
"Time was like a shuttle, piercing straight through. Time was like a river, flowing on without cease."
Among all things that constantly changed, time was truly the most persistent and fundamental—if time could be compared to an object at all.
In the blink of an eye, spring had officially passed.
It was already July of this year. The cool season of spring had long gone, and the weather now could be described in four words: unbearably scorching heat.
The Black Sun in the sky did not abandon its light and heat just because it was black. Instead, it became ever more dazzling, its temperature ever more blistering. It hung high in the air, reporting for duty each day as though clocking in, shining upon the world below and wantonly releasing its light and heat.
For more than two months, not a drop of rain had fallen within a hundred-mile radius. The soil on the ground had dried thoroughly.
If one casually grabbed a handful and blew on it, a dry smell would rush straight at the face, without the slightest trace of moisture. This showed that the water in the earth's surface layer had nearly all evaporated.
The water in some rivers and lakes was also showing signs of drying up. Everything left the people of the territory deeply uneasy.
Some plants that had only just poked their heads out in spring had become half-dead and listless under the current drought and scorching heat.
These wild plants were doing somewhat better, however. Having long adapted to nature's laws, enduring was not much of a problem for them.
But the crops in the fields were far more delicate. Under the double oppression of drought