A loud and muffled thump echoed through the air.
Lying on the ground, Lin Sanjiu had a feeling that she had tripped and fallen over a balcony rather than falling from outer space. Aside from the throbbing pain that spread from her shoulders, she did not sustain any other injuries.
The relentless whirlwind had dissipated and silence had returned. An eddy of air blew across the vast salmon-red land, sounding lonely, hurried and strange.
It occurred to Lin Sanjiu that she had landed on a continent.
She angled her eyes to see a cringe-worthy black slit that sat in the center of the dawn-laced sky. The black slit cosseted behind the soft of the cloud and was closing. It seemed to her that somebody had torn the sky open and another person was trying to fix it. She had even seen such a peculiar phenomenon before—the wormhole that the highest god conjured when he sent Hegel away.
