The Silent Ritual

About twenty minutes in all.

From the start of the battle to its end, and then collecting the bodies.

The investigators retreated into Shangjing City in an orderly fashion. The battle that followed no longer had anything to do with them.

But who could have imagined it?

In that brief span of time, hundreds had paid with their lives.

Mao Yong'an followed the crowd into Shangjing City in a daze, his pupils somewhat unfocused, no one knowing what he was thinking.

He had seen dead people.

Many of them.

He had even killed quite a few with his own hands.

But he had never experienced a scene like this in his life. He could hardly imagine what those investigators had been thinking in the final moment before they self-destructed.

Was it worth it?

To calmly give up their lives for someone else's plan.

No one gave him an answer.

The city gates closed.

The investigators carried the bodies of their comrades on their backs and gradually walked away.

Mao Yong'an followed behind them aimlessly.

Until he saw

a graveyard.

This cemetery was extremely simple, with no excessive decoration. Just a stretch of earth and rows of burial mounds. Nothing more.

Even the gravestone was merely a massive boulder, carved with name after name.

And freshly dug pits lay scattered across the ground.

Clearly, before these people left the city, they had already dug their own graves.

Eight hundred and thirty of them.

They placed the bodies on the ground, then silently turned their gazes toward Mao Yong'an.

Numbly, Mao Yong'an took the body from his backpack.

The investigators silently gathered the bodies together.

Then they set them alight.

The bodies continued to burn, letting out crisp crackling sounds. Under the flickering firelight, the investigators' faces remained as still as ancient