ConfluentemAna, the king of all the cities on the central-champaign, still maintains its prosperity in the autumn of the 380th year of the Galaxium calendar.

So bright, so greatness, like gold, like the sun, like the autumn leaves seen everywhere at this season.

Everyone can see its fragility, everyone can understand its aging.

The intellectuals, the dominant-houses, the officials, the eunuchs, the nobilimariors, the supreme-clans , even the emperor, who lived in ConfluentemAna were all aware of the desperate situation facing the capital and the empire, just as they were aware of its legends from the past.

But none of them could hold the crumbling edifice.

So indulge yourself and enjoy the revelry until the current tragedy comes to an end.

This autumn is so beautiful, cool and comfortable wind blowing light and slow, by the day calcined into gold leaves can sway on the top of the tree for a long time.

Then, the wind that had stopped twice in the past four hundred years, will blow again, blow that leaf off, tear the whole tree, and from autumn to spring . All over the world will die, and be born again at the end of death.

My English level is not excellent. If I make mistakes in grammar or other aspects, I hope some warm-hearted friends can point out my mistakes in the comments section.

There is no single protagonist throughout the book, and every character you see as the protagonist, the bearer of perspective, can die, anytime, anywhere. There is no single thread running throughout the book, only fate following the advance of time. There is no single superpower that dominates the workings of the world. Supernatural forces exist, but they are no more significant than intelligence, courage and prestige.