The world was doomed.
Huai Shi had never felt this so profoundly.
He looked up to see snowflakes fluttering down from the sky, landing on his nose—soon forming a gray layer.
They were tiny specks of dust, invisible to the naked eye.
Specks of black snow.
For a week now, this black snow had been falling from the sky, continuing as if it were the ash from something that had burned out, until everything was completely covered.
Like earth shoveled onto a coffin at a funeral's end, it buried everything with a relentless, measured pace.
Now, as Huai Shi looked up, he could see the land below the pallid sky had turned pitch black.
On the pitch-black earth, a swirling mist was gathering, rising slowly.
Faint laughter echoed from behind him.
