On the boundless Desolate Stone Plateau, two figures draped in gray cloaks walked. They traversed mountains and forests, crossed rivers and valleys, reached the barren desert, and climbed the cold cliffs overlooking icy chasms. The ten-thousand-meter canyon seemed like the scars of the world, witnessing the passage of time.
The grand sacrificial altar emerged, the high-raised altar weathered by the marks of time and was dilapidated. The towering Ouroboros totem had collapsed and lay broken across the cliff, the windblown dust on its surface silently narrating a brutal history; this place had been plundered by the corporation.
The two young girls stood before the totem, their figures so small as to appear like mere dots when viewed from afar.
"Pu'er Shazan," Angelina said. "This is what they have guarded for generations."
