The blazing sun deep in the desert is like molten gold and mercury, casting the endless sand dunes into flowing metal waves.
Xu Qing stands atop a crescent-shaped dune, his Daoist robe's hem rips and flutters in the wild wind, resembling a tattered yet dignified battle flag.
The embroidered Tai Chi Diagram lining shines faintly in the sunlight, and the threads of the Innate Eight Diagrams roll with the robe, as if deducing the mysteries of heaven and earth.
He gently twirls a fragment of a bronze ghost face with his fingertips, the rust as dark red as congealed blood, seeping out tiny beads of water in the heat and at the moment they hit the ground, transforming into wisps of black smoke that outline countless twisted ghost faces in the air, like souls sealed for millennia struggling and wailing.
"Kan Palace Earth Shift, Fire of Li Trigram Reverses Water..." Xu Qing whispers softly, the trigram in his palm is etched with fine cracks by the sand particles.
