A solemn air filled the room.
The young man looked at the dense crowd blocked off by the cordon, and for a brief moment, he froze.
Only when the ponytailed woman behind him gave him a gentle push did he come back to himself. He lowered his head, glanced at the crowd ahead, and slowly moved forward.
His steps, which had originally carried a bit of a light bounce, grew invisibly heavy in that moment. The silence and solemnity in the air were like an unseen dye, spreading into everyone's heart.
Black coffins covered with white flags printed with the crest of Radiance Palace were carried out through the broad gates.
The sky was dark and heavy, as if storm clouds were gathering in the firmament, like an invisible hand pressing down on the earth, pressing down on everyone's heart.
The young man turned his head slightly and glanced at the black coffin beside him.
In that moment, the deaths of the people inside those coffins—something he and his companions had discussed countless times—turned into an invisible "presence" that wound around his soul.
The "injustice" and "massacre" those equally young people in the coffins had once suffered, those simple words, gradually merged with his memories and understanding.
He did not know what he should say. He only felt some invisible sorrow surge into his heart, and a faint crystalline wetness dampened his eyes.
As the entire procession gradually moved forward, the onlookers also slowly watched the coffins pass one after another.
When the dense rows of coffins were carried out through the gates, the gazes of the watching crowd gradually shifted from blankness to shock, then to pity.
People seemed to understand what kind of remains they had come to receive this time, but they did not seem to have