Chang Yu stood in front of the rusting machine, his body reeking of scorch and the rotten smell of traditional Chinese medicine.
He recalled the afternoon many years ago when he'd first seen a steam train. It was a moment of steel, sparks, noise, and surging power that left the fifteen-year-old boy utterly shocked beyond words. Since then, hammers, gears, springs, valves, and the swirling flames and steam had become Chang Yu's closest companions, with whom he shared an unspoken understanding.
Just like today.
The incomprehensible jumbled text and abstruse, intricate diagrams in the Book of Creation were to Chang Yu a series of vivid comic strips.
He felt as if he had personally witnessed an unheard-of barbaric era: various reptiles curled up under palm trees, the land covered with hard red soil, the ocean floor occupied by bony fish, and the apex Predator—a giant dragonfly with transparent wings—while the primitive bipeds used rudimentary iron tools to fend off various beasts.
