It was late at night.
Bai Yujun felt that Heaven was treating her like cheap labor. The meaning was obvious: all the hard work was for the flood dragon to do.
The few men left on the mountain to dig had planned to head down and rest, but when they reached the fork in the road, they somehow muddleheadedly returned to the same hill as before. After twisting and turning their way around, they got lost somewhere. Their heads heavy with drowsiness, they simply sat down to rest, only to fall asleep almost immediately.
Moonlight illuminated the hilltop, revealing several strong men digging with all their might without even lighting a fire for illumination. They did not say a word, like sleepwalkers from legend...
An ordinary person would probably have been scared half to death at the sight. It was truly eerie in the dead of night.
In a large courtyard at the foot of the mountain lay paper banners, paper horses, and other funeral items. In the stillness of the night, firelight flickered from the brazier before the Spirit Hall as paper money burned. Someone had to keep watch through the night, yet for some reason, everyone else became overwhelmingly exhausted and soon fell asleep. Only the young general slowly burned the paper offerings.
Just as the last handyman began to snore, the young general saw a soft white glow in the sky outside, illuminating the courtyard. Startled, he viciously pinched his thigh and found that he was not dreaming. Could it be those immortal cultivators?
The young general, dressed in mourning clothes, stepped outside. When he saw the sky above the courtyard clearly, he was utterly dumbfounded...
At roughly the height of the house, a vague dragon some twenty feet long swam through the air. He had seen