As the morning sun's rays shot through the holes in the bamboo tree stalks, casting torch-like circles on the leaf-filled ground, squirrels moved, hopping on the roots of the trees.
At the front of the Western Temple, where the entrance gate had opened wide, brown leaves spun, drifting by with the rhythm of the air blown by the branches of the trees into the large empty courtyard.
Blood clotted the ground like a riverbed, drawing the shapes of countless human silhouettes that stretched long from the entrance point to the pillars holding the roofs of the Chinese-structured buildings from falling.
Green liquid glittered on the walls as the rays of the sun fell on pillars dressed with strange carvings. Vaporized air erupted from the surface of the walls and pillars as the density of the rays increased, giving the air in the courtyard a sour taste.
