A Spectacle for the Ages

At the same time, deep within the mist.

Many survivors witnessed this "anti-supernatural" scene and stared wide-eyed in shock, unable to believe it.

"Marquis, th-this... its head went into its ass?"

In the corner of an intersection, a burly man in fitted clothes pointed at a warhorse passing nearby, rubbing his eyes again and again, afraid he had seen wrong.

Two others were the same, both Marquis Manor guards with sharp gazes and deeply restrained auras.

Marquis of Purple Robes bit his fingernail, his face equally full of surprise.

This time, after the supernatural passage, he had finally relaxed for once.

Behind the warhorse, it looked at first glance as though it were dragging a headless corpse.

But upon closer inspection, one could see that it was not a corpse—it was still moving. Its head had somehow been shoved into the horse's rear.

The horse had to spread its legs wide even to walk.

It was truly a spectacle for the ages!

Since corpses could not speak, there could be no "law-words."

Their safety was therefore assured.

Soon, just as the warhorse passed through and the group was about to set off,

another coffin-bearing procession appeared in the distance. On the white lantern at the front, the remaining half of the character "mourning" could be seen clearly.

Yet what they were carrying made everyone's mouths fall open.

Because there was no coffin at all.

Suspended from two bare coffin poles was a white-bearded old man dressed in a dark-red longevity robe. He bobbed up and down, and he had not yet drawn his last breath.

"Marquis... what kind of burial is this?" one Marquis Manor guard asked, dumbstruck.

"It is no kind of burial. Most likely, someone has attacked the supernatural procession." Another, somewhat older guard pondered for a moment