The auditorium had to be packed with people engaged in intense activity, to the point that the overlapping radiated heat waves had rendered the temperature control system useless.
"Fuck!"
Facing the main doors, Zhao Xi was nearly knocked off his feet by the heat wave reeking of sweat, alcohol, and all kinds of perfume. From where he stood, looking inside through the shifting, hazy bands of light, he could see almost nothing but twisted, dancing silhouettes. At first glance, they all seemed mashed together, while the slightly clearer patches of vision were filled with arms waving and crossing like a forest.
The spot where the Burners entered was slightly lower than the central floor. They could not see what the very center looked like. All they could see were people—packed together, clinging to each other, roaring and dancing.
Even if there were not a thousand of them, there had to be seven or eight hundred.
No one inside cared that the doors had opened. These people were completely immersed in a ritualistic revelry, with no thought of anyone else or even themselves.
The reason it could be called a "ritual" was that there was order within the chaos. For example, the "incantation" they roared was remarkably regular:
The "yi" was drawn out long, while the "hou" was soft and extremely brief. The pause afterward was filled by four perfectly synchronized stomps.
Then came the first forcefully expelled "nuo," still short and still followed by stomps. Only then did the second "nuo" follow, then more stomping... and so the cycle continued.
The overall rhythm was steady and uniform, simple and unified. Hundreds upon hundreds of people howled together, creating an astonishing presence.
Yet the drumbeats that should have served as the metronome sounded chaotic and dreamlike instead. Mixed with gongs, clappers,