Spring warmth fades to blooming, summer comes to fall.
On this day, a steep mountain peak, about fifty thousand miles south of the Giant Frog Marsh, suddenly burst into a beam of white light.
In a flash, the peak was sliced in half, plummeting down with a roar that echoed through heaven and earth.
"Roar..."
All the wild Fond Spirits in the hills and fields leaped up.
No matter their size or age, they fled in panic, terrified that a moment's delay might cost them their lives.
"Damn it, this compass is malfunctioning again!"
"Those old fogies in the Institute of Mechanics take so much salary every year, only to give us some defective products!"
In the void, the figures of three men gradually solidified.
They were at least tens of thousands of meters in the sky with no buoyancy, falling freely.
