Li Huowang continued downward as the once brilliant sunlight gave way to gloom. Soon, the ground leveled out, and he saw a dilapidated earthen grave before him. Its mound was overgrown with weeds, and three sticks of incense were stabbed into the earth before the tombstone.
The thin white smoke did not disperse but shimmered and curled, enshrouding the tomb in a half-real, half-ethereal haze.
Li Huowang walked into the white smoke, wanting to decipher the words on the gravestone. He could see inscriptions there, but no matter how hard he tried, their meaning eluded him. He was sure he had known them once, but now they were strangers, their forms constantly morphing before his eyes.
Under his unwavering gaze, those shifting inscriptions slowly condensed into two distinct characters.
