It was said.
That night, the superior took a fishing net and walked into the dungeon alone.
No one knew what had happened.
But at around four in the morning, he walked out of the dungeon.
His expression looked somewhat sorrowful.
The next day.
He had a small lamp lit in every cell of the dungeon, then scattered some grain and wine.
To be honest.
Food had been precious then, and people could barely eat their fill.
Wine was even scarcer.
But no one raised any objections.
More than twenty years later.
When Old Liu told others about this incident, he said that they must have been the wronged spirits of those who had been tortured to death in the dungeon.
They had not been causing trouble on purpose.
They had simply died too miserably, in too much pain.
Perhaps because his colleagues carried too much killing intent, the spirits quieted down for a while.
Later, they came out again.
But because they feared his colleagues, they would hide whenever someone went down to investigate.
What that superior had done was impossible to know.
But clearly.
The yin spirits wandering through the dungeon had left.
The dungeon was dark.
A lamp had been lit for them.
Before they set out.
They had been given a meal.
Perhaps.
In their brief lives, from the moment they were born into this cruel world until they died miserably in the dungeon and became yin spirits.
It was the first time they had ever drunk wine.
The first time they had ever eaten their fill.
The old era had been buried, and the history of the past had turned to dust.
Jiang Qiao had been there before. He had entered some dungeons open to visitors and toured the local museums.
So when he